


The Back of the Sun

by AssistedRealityInterface



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Damsels in Distress, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Psychological Trauma, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssistedRealityInterface/pseuds/AssistedRealityInterface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ghosts of Melinda's past come back to haunt her. They're not interested in tormenting her this time, however. Ward is the one who ends up in the crossfire, tortured and held hostage for Melinda to come and save him. Except when she comes to find him, she's on the receiving end of a lot more danger than she bargained for. And not just from Ward's captors, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Missed Briefing

The debriefing was always a blur, and most of the time, Melinda never remembered anything she told Phil about what had occurred on a mission for his reports anyway. She only really came down from the high of a fight when all was said and done; the reports written up, the paperwork signed off on, the quick check-over for injuries done, until finally, the kitchen and an enormous meal beckoned.

Leo and Jemma already sat at the table; Leo was carefully brushing knots out of Jemma’s hair, and Melinda could hear boiling water on the stove as she sat down.

“Did you make coffee, too?” she asked.

“Oh, for the rest of you heathens? Yes, of course,” Jemma said, flashing her a teasing smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You might go throwing my tea into the harbor again.”

“I’d consider it,” Melinda said with a small smile in return, rubbing her temples. “Especially after today.”

“Oh, god, that was a mess,” Fitz said, pulling out one last knot as Jemma rubbed her scalp and winced. He kissed her forehead in apology and got up to pour the tea. “Could barely hear you three over the comms with the gunshots going on. Skye lost connection with Ward, even.”

“She did?” Melinda said, lifting her head up and clenching her fist. Jemma and Leo both exchanged a quick look.

No one said anything for a minute. Melinda stood up to make herself coffee. After a moment’s pause, she got two cups out and started to pour.

“Ah, er, Phil didn’t tell you?” Leo said, hesitating on every syllable. “We, ah…we lost contact with Ward about ten minutes before you and Phil returned.”

Melinda’s hand did not shake when she poured.

She set two steaming mugs of coffee down just in time for Skye to come in, beaming, and pick one up, adding cream and sugar before looking around.

“Hey, good to see the team back together!” she said. “Has anyone seen Ward?”

…

Phil jumped halfway out of his chair as Melinda burst in with an abrupt bang, storming to his desk and standing before him, eyes blazing.

“Where is Ward?” she asked, her voice dangerously soft. “And why didn’t you tell me we’d lost him?”

“I sent him off on his own to finish the mission,” Phil said with a sigh. “I didn’t think it would take us much longer to wrap up if I sent him after the target. And we got back in ten minutes.”

“Not all of us,” Melinda said quietly.

Phil’s hand froze mid pen stroke.

He put the pen down and pushed away from his desk, meeting her eyes with a careful, level gaze.

“I got a call from him,” Phil said slowly, meeting her gaze and watching her eyes darken. “I got a call from him about ten minutes ago explaining his situation. He had cleared the target but needed to treat himself for a few minor injuries. He should be coming in for a debriefing in about two minutes.”

Melinda said nothing.

“Let’s just wait two minutes then,” she said her voice cool and calm as she took a seat across from Phil’s desk.

Two minutes ticked by. Melinda sipped her coffee and waited. Phil pursed his lips, his face pale.

She got up when the clock finally slipped, numbers shifting, and went down to the lab.

Empty. Devoid of life and agonizingly, frustratingly white; so white she thought for a second she’d gone blind.

Melinda turned on her heel and grabbed her gun, heading for the cockpit. As she passed Phil in the hallway, she said only, “We’re going back for him.”

Phil did not so much as nod before she was gone and shifting the controls, her hands gripping them so tight they almost snapped.

…

The sun burned and beat waves of shimmering heat on Melinda’s back as she stormed through the jungle, following the trail and the still-bloody corpses she had just mowed down not an hour ago.

“We shouldn’t have even been here,” Phil said. “This wasn’t our turf, the Director knew that—“

“But he needed us here,” she said. “Back in Bahrain. Why? To mock us?”

“To test us,” Phil said with a shrug. “To see if we’ve grown out of our childhood traumas, maybe.”

“No one is ever a child in S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she said stiffly, hacking at branches with her knife. Phil nodded.

“I know, I know,” he murmured. “Mel, if you need to talk about this—“

“I don’t,” she said with a hiss of frustration, kicking down a rotting tree trunk and hopping over it, back to the base they’d been sent to Bahrain to smoke out. “I need to find Ward and get him home. That’s all.”

She paused to give Phil a second to catch up. “Comms responding to anything?”

“Fitz and Jemma have been searching for his signal for two hours now,” Phil said. “Skye’s tried to trace the phone call he and I had, but it wasn’t long, and the signal here isn’t exactly ideal.”

“I figured,” Melinda said, her voice sharp and dry as she rolled up her sleeves and made her way into the abandoned building that their targets had been using as a hideout. “Gun out, Phil.”

“You know better than to ask,” Phil said, already pulling it out of its holster as they spoke. Melinda shrugged.

“In times like this, I guess I just like being reminded you’re going to do as I say,” she said, a hint of amusement creeping into her words just before she kicked down the door.

The two of them looked around and tried not to feel the creeping, burning nausea of panic at the empty echoes of the building.

In the middle of the barren concrete floor lay a note.

Melinda picked it up with shaking hands and read it once, twice, then tossed it aside.

Phil went to pick it up for analysis only to jump as Melinda’s gun riddled a string of bullets into the wall.

“We need to get this back and see what we can make of it in the lab, Melinda, please relax—“

“Don’t bother,” she said, making her way out. “I know exactly who did this. And I’ve got to go get him, _now.”_

“Melinda? Melinda, could you just explain— _Melinda!_ ”

Phil ran after her with a sigh, pausing only for a second to watch her storm through the jungle like a tiger on fire; bright and terrifying, muscles tensed to tear into their next victim.

“Melinda, for god’s sake _, wait—“_

“I _can’t,”_ she snapped at him, whirling around and shooting him a vicious glare. “If I wait any longer, he’s going to die, and it’s going to be _my fault,_ Phil.”

“No,” Phil murmured. “No it won’t. Come on, Melinda, talk to me. Please talk to me.”

She turned and made her way to the plane without another word. Phil sighed and made his way after her, waiting until they were on the plane to hand her the note.

…

Melinda walked into the lab and slapped the note down on the table, making the trio jump before turning to survey her with wide eyes.

“Melinda? Have you found Ward?” Jemma asked. Melinda snorted.

“No,” she said. “I need you to analyze this. If you can get fingerprints off of it, it’d be appreciated.”

“Ah, I doubt it, since it’s just paper,” Jemma said, “but I guarantee you that note was left recently. It’s hot here, and rather humid today; the level of moisture in the paper is making it curl and wither at the edges, see?”

Melinda rubbed her temples, ignoring her shaking hands. Jemma reached out hesitantly for the note. “May I read it? Perhaps it might help if we all took a look at—“

“ _No,”_ Melinda snarled, reminding them all with one abrupt, sharp growl that Ward wasn’t the only one who had picked up the berserker staff.

She paused and looked at them, like she was only just now realizing it herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just don’t want any of you involved in this. It was something from my life before all of this happened. And I don’t want you to know about it. I’m not that person anymore.”

“Yeah, but, Melinda—please, for Ward—” Skye said, Melinda cutting her off with a shake of her head.

“I’m going to save him,” she said. “Promise me when I say I’ll be enough. Because I know the person who kidnapped him, and all they want is me.”

She took the note and left the lab.

There was silence in the room for a moment before Skye opened up the computer and frowned.

“Okay,” she said. “So you two both know where we are, right?”

“Yeah, Bahrain,” Leo said. “Where the, y’know.”

“Yeah, the y’know,” Skye said. “So we need to kind of, you know.”

“You know what?” another voice came from the doorway, making all three of them jump. Phil stood at the threshold of the door and smiled. “I’m going to help you three do it.”

“Oh, okay,” Skye said. “Hey, AC. Howcome you’re so willing to help? Shouldn’t you be lecturing us for invasion of privacy or…something?”

“I don’t like having to do this, no,” Phil agreed. “Melinda deserves to keep this hidden if she wants. But getting a few simple details out of the case file is going to help us save Ward, and that’s her _real_ goal, we know that. So I’d rather she didn’t do that alone.”

Skye, Leo, and Jemma nodded, sitting down at the enormous table-computer,  Jemma tapping in a few commands and opening the S.H.I.E.L.D. database.

“Okay, what do we need?” Skye said. “If she knows this person and they’re using Ward to get to her…”

“Motive’s simple,” Leo said. “Someone who feels like she deserves to be punished for what happened in Bahrain. And they’ve got Ward because they know that they’re close.”

“’Close?’” Skye said, raising her eyebrows. Leo blushed.

“All right, all right, intimately linked!” he protested, rubbing his temples. “It isn’t the point. The point is, Ward’s being used as bait to lure Melinda out. They probably _want_ her to come after him alone. Easier that way. And they don’t want to kill us. They just want to get revenge on her.”

“Leo Fitz, incapable of saying two people are dating,” Skye said, trying not to smile. Leo glared at her.

“That’s hardly the issue here,” he grumbled. “We need specifics.”

“A list of people who died,” Phil murmured. “And their next of kin.”

He paused. “Kids, would you mind letting me look through this on my own? Just to give her some privacy. These are her demons, and she’s not one for putting those on display.”

The trio nodded, not even raising an eyebrow between the three of them at the term.

“Right. We’ll go, ah…put some weaponry together for you,” Jemma said. “Would that suffice?”

“Mmhm,” Phi said. “And if she’s still here, would one of you go check on Melinda?”

The three of them shared a look and nodded; Phil watched them leave and Skye break off from the scientists, turning and heading for Melinda’s room. He silently wished her the best and went back to his work with a shiver.

“Ah, Melinda,” he said, exhaling a long, weary sigh. “The things you and I have done.”

He scrolled down the list of victims in the case file and tried not to let his fingers shake as he went through name after name.

“God,” he murmured, shaking his head as he continued to run down the list. “Melinda. Ah, hell. I wish I could’ve gone in with you. I wish I could’ve protected you. I do, I do…”

It meant nothing, and he knew that better than anyone; still, it soothed the ache in his chest somewhat as he went through the names.

“Hamal Abedin, thirty-seven…survived by a single daughter,” Phil murmured. “Ghufran Abedin.”

He paused. No one else had next of kin that would conceivably be old enough or in a position where they could seek revenge—or might have a motive to do so. A daughter avenging a father, though…

He looked through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database on any unrest in Bahrain, cross-indexing it with the name. He frowned, searching through the files silently before he got up and went to find Leo and Jemma.

…

As Phil conferred with the scientists, Skye stood outside Melinda’s door, waiting.

Melinda came out a few minutes later, and it took all of Skye’s strength not to flinch.

She knew Melinda was armed, even though she only wore a simple leather jacket, boots, and a tee shirt and jeans. The way the woman regarded her was the same way Skye had been regarded by a bear once, late at night when she’d snuck out to investigate the noise she could hear outside St. Agnes’ walls. She had disturbed someone more powerful and dangerous than her, and she had to tread carefully.

“That’s not your size,” she said, gesturing to the leather jacket Melinda wore like armor. Melinda snorted.

“It shouldn’t be,” she said. “It’s his.”

“I figured,” Skye said. “Shirt, too?”

Melinda nodded. Skye sighed.

“Hey,” she said. “AC told me to come talk to you. I don’t know what he wanted me to say, but I know what _I_ want to say.”

“And that is?” Melinda said, her voice cool and soft. Skye swallowed, trying not to tense up.

“Ah, let me…let me help,” she said, wishing it had come out sharper, harder, better than a little scared squeak. “Please. He’s my friend. He’s my SO, sure, but he’s my friend too, and I want to protect him.”

Melinda was silent for a second. Skye had a moment to contemplate all the guns, knives, and other assorted nasty objects Melinda was most likely keeping concealed on her.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I know you want to help. I do appreciate it. But I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I’m not making you confront my demons.”

“Even so, please, c’mon—look,” Skye said, proffering Melinda her phone. “Just take a tracker and stay on-comm with me? Please, Melinda, I want to _help._ I want Ward to be all right too, okay? Because I know he loves you, I know he thinks the sun rises and sets with your sleeping patterns, but like—please, he’s my best friend…”

Melinda cupped her cheek and hushed her gently, smoothing a thumb over her cheekbone. She waited until Skye stopped sniffling to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Give me the phone.”

Skye gave it to her. “I can use the computer to keep tabs on you with the phone. Just don’t lose it, okay?”

“Okay,” Melinda agreed. “Stay with the team. Tell them that. I want all of you to stay together. I want you to be safe. And if you’re together, you’ll be safer. Understood?”

“Got it,” Skye promised. “I will. I won’t let Fitz and Jemma out of my sight. And you know Phil’s gonna be there.”

Melinda nodded, turning to leave. “I might be awhile. I’ll have to go hunting.”

“If we find anything out, I’ll let you know,” Skye promised. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait? We could take the plane up, fly you to wherever…whoever did this is!”

“By the time we found that out and got there, we’d be spotted in the sky, and Ward could be killed for that,” Melinda said, her voice suddenly tightening on the last few words. “I have contacts in this region. They’ll know. I’ll find him.”

Skye nodded, watching Melinda leave with a sigh. “Be safe! Watch your back!”

Melinda lifted a fist and smiled when Skye laughed, just for the briefest of seconds.

She remembered Ward, tied up and hidden god only knew where because of her in a sudden, sickening flash, and lowered her fist, shaking her head and leaving the plane without another word.

Skye returned to the others, finding Phil on the way to the cockpit. His face was pale and strained as she met his gaze.

“AC? Hey, AC, you okay?” she murmured. “What’s up?”

“I might know where Ward is,” Phil said. “But Melinda has to know what she’s walking into.”

“Which is?” Skye asked, head cocked. Her stomach was starting to burn and simmer with panic at the look on Phil’s face.

“Skye,” Phil said, “do you know what HYDRA is?”

“Ah, uh…kind of a Nazi group, yeah? Didn’t Cap kick the shit out of them in the forties?” she asked. Phil rubbed his temples.

“Not quite,” he said. “Let’s go get Jemma and Leo. I need to talk to all of you.”

Skye shivered, making her way into the cockpit with Phil. Jemma checked their coordinates as Fitz sat in the seat beside her, fiddling with a bag full of weapons.

“Jemma, do you mind if I take your seat?” Phil asked. “I’m getting a bit too old to sit on the floor, I think.”

“Of course,” Jemma said, sitting down; Fitz scrambled to sit next to her, climbing out of the chair so she could lay her head on his shoulder. “Phil, sir? Ah—what’s going on? You look sick.”

“I’m fine…just concerned,” Phil said with a sigh. “I need to explain something to all three of you before we get going. Did Melinda leave, Skye?”

“Mmhm,” she said. “She was wearing Ward’s jacket. And she looked really sad. She told us to stick together before she left.”

Phil exhaled and sighed, rubbing his temples. “All right, okay. Before we go get Ward, I need all three of you to understand something. Do you know about HYDRA?”

“Yes,” Jemma said, wrinkling her nose. “Are we talking modern-day HYDRA?”

“I am,” Phil said. “Skye, modern-day HYDRA isn’t quite as it was in the forties. Nothing is. There’s branches of them that are still blatant neo-Nazis, yes, but…some branches have spread across nations. And when I went looking for someone I believe might’ve been involved in Ward’s kidnapping…well.”

He took Jemma’s tablet and opened the database file he’d had open on the main computer, showing it to the three of them. “There’s a branch of HYDRA that sprung up specifically to try to restore order in this region post Arab Spring. I doubt they’re actually affiliated with the ethos of HYDRA, considering where we are, but HYDRA has by and large become focused on basic world domination, and they’ve got the funds to back a small branch like this quite handsomely.”

“So Ward got kidnapped by HYDRA?” Skye said. Phil shook his head.

“Not exactly,” he said. “Yes and no, I’m afraid. Part of this was revenge against Melinda, plain and simple…but part of the issue, I believe, is because Ward carries the berserker influence in him. In HYDRA’s heyday, they were heavily invested in Nordic myth. And—“

“Oh my god,” Jemma said, her heart hammering in her throat. “Oh my god, they’re trying to make him into a human weapon!”

The entire cockpit was silent for a second as the idea sank in. Skye hugged Jemma tight, kissing her forehead as Fitz wrapped an arm around them both.

“That…that’s my theory, yes,” Phil said slowly. “And I think they want to use him on Melinda.”


	2. On Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melinda gets a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Advance trigger warnings for rape and torture in this chapter; seriously skip like all but the last two paragraphs if that would bother you. I know there's warnings but I might as well get specific. Also, forced drugging.

Ward awoke bleeding, shivering in pain, and completely naked.

He sat up and looked around, squirming in his restraints. Warm spices reached his nose from the candle burning nearby; his brow furrowed as he looked around the high walls of the room, the soft bed nearby, and the view outside the nearby window of an enormous pool and marble terrace.

“This has to be the best place I’ve ended up after getting kidnapped,” he murmured to himself, trying to get up. He yelped in pain and fell back, realizing then that the jingling coming from nearby was a chain. He looked down and frowned, biting his lip as he saw the collar wrapped around his throat, the chain linked to it and attached to the wall.

“Okay, maybe not so much,” he mumbled.

He settled in and checked the floor. He was sitting on an enormous pillow, and the rest of the floor seemed to be covered by a gigantic rug. He ran his eyes over the intricate patterns and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn’t pick out anything symbolic from them, but gauging by the room décor and the outside view, he was at least still in Bahrain.

Ward was about to settle back in until he heard a wide yawn; someone stirred in the bed above him. He swallowed and tensed, checking his restraints; he was bound by metal, hands behind his back and ankles bound together as well.

He watched the woman on the bed get up and dress, throwing on a lush green robe and glittering black pants. Ward flinched when she turned and he saw the logo silk-screened on her back.

“HYDRA?” he mouthed, tensing.

She turned around moments after and smiled at the sight of him. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

“Who are you?” Ward asked. “And why am I here?”

“You’re clever, asking questions,” she said. “Stupid for thinking I’d answer, though.”

She clucked her tongue and tugged on the chain, making him jerk his head forward as he abruptly found himself without air. “I don’t know why Melinda would pick someone like you. Honestly, you’d think a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent would be so much more competent. But I got ahold of you easily.”

Ward flinched away as her hand got closer. She frowned and knelt before she fisted it in his hair, tilting his head up so he was forced to meet her gaze. “Do you remember? I do. I saw you trying to go back to her even after your superior officer told you to work alone. I made a good guess, I think. You love her, right?”

She smiled. “You screamed for her just before one of my men knocked you out. It was sweet.”

Ward swore at her in a long string of Arabic until she punched him in the throat; he wheezed, shook his head, and spat.

“If you lay a hand on her, I’ll kill you,” Ward said in roughly-accented Arabic, baring his teeth at her.

She smiled. “I’m not going to hurt her. You are.”

Ward snarled, struggling in his bonds, jerking the chain to try to make it come loose. “Nothing you could _ever_ do would make me hurt my Melinda. Not a god damn thing.”

“I’m sure,” she said, her voice dry. “But then again, right now, you’re untreated steel. No one has come along to smelt you, refine you, and hammer you into shape. Once I’m done with that, you will be the greatest sword I have ever wielded.”

She ran a thumb over his jawline, tilted his head up, and removed a syringe from her robe, plunging it into his neck and watching his eyes roll back in his head.

She kissed his forehead and left, leaving the door wide open and his body lying pliant and still on the floor.

…

Ward awoke with a little shudder, his head pounding and his body burning. He was blindfolded. Wherever he was, it was cold and it hurt and something was forcing him onto his stomach.

He whined and wriggled, vaguely aware of something heavy on his back. His body hurt. His legs ached, and there was something wet on his thighs.

Something broke, and he screamed, scrabbling at the floor. Something was on top of him, something hurt, his body was _burning_ —

He felt wetness flood his insides and he groaned in pain. The weight on top of him shifted and he cried out as he was roughly shoved aside, his body numb.

Ward had a brief second to steady his breathing as he tried to re-orient himself, his entire body trembling.

“Oh good,” the soft female voice from before said. “You’re awake.”

Someone ripped the blindfold off of him and Ward looked at a group of men standing behind her, the woman looking down at him with a smile and a video camera. The only real light in the room was the red blinking dot, indicating it was recording.

“Smile for Melinda,” she said.

Ward began to scream.

…

Melinda got a call an hour later after making her way into the wilderness, ignoring the burn of her skin beneath Ward’s leather jacket. Her rage burned cold enough to keep her steady.

“Skye,” she said. “What is it?”

“ _Melinda? We’ve found a name.”_

Skye paused. “ _Uh, does the name Ghufran Abedin mean anything to you?”_

Melinda paused, closing her eyes. There was a man in front of her begging for his life when she stood in the darkness.

“…Yes,” she said. “Yes, it does.”

_“We think she’s the one who’s got Ward. She’s apparently working for a branch of HYDRA these days. According to the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, their headquarters was last seen on top of the Mountain of Smoke. Can you get there?”_

“In an hour,” Melinda replied. “Let me go after her. You can be in charge of cleanup. If I leave anything besides ashes, it’s yours.”

“ _Melinda, it’s going to be okay. He’s waiting for you. You’ll find him.”_

Melinda nodded. “Hold on, there’s something else incoming.”

“ _I’ll trace it. Pick it up, Melinda, I’ve got the system ready.”_

Melinda nodded, turning on her phone. The message sent started to play. It was a simple streaming video. She squinted, head cocked slightly as she tried to see what was going on in the dark.

An abrupt burst of light made her wince; a pained, broken little wail made her snap to attention.

She watched as the light covered the whole room, focusing specifically on the scene taking place on the floor.

One of Ward’s eyes had swelled up and his face was covered in bruises. Blood trickled down his forehead and from his split, swollen lip. His hands looked bloody and bruised as he tried to scramble away from the men currently gathered around him, taking turns at striking him in the ribs, dragging knives along his skin, and…

Melinda watched, wordless, as Ward’s gang rape played out in front of her, his voice weak and agonized as he tried to look around despite his eye injury, meeting the camera’s gaze with his head cocked.

He could barely speak, but she saw him mouth her name.

She heard someone screaming in her comm; probably Skye.

She watched a woman approach him and force his head between her legs. There was a moment where nothing happened; Melinda swallowed, her throat tight and her hands shaking.

The woman slapped him so hard the crack made Melinda start, almost dropping her phone. Ward started to sob as she pulled his hair, yanking him forward.

For a second, there was silent. Then the woman looked her right in the eye.

“Hello, Melinda,” she said. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

“I’ll kill you,” Melinda said. “I swear to god, I’ll _kill you_ , I’ll rip out your god damn _throat—“_

To her surprise, the woman laughed. Melinda realized, numb, that they could hear her.

“Ward? Grant, sweet one, it’s all right, I’ll come find you, it’s okay—Grant? I love you. I’m coming,” she promised, hoping he could hear her too.

“I can’t wait,” the woman said, just as the call ended.

Someone was throwing up over the comm. Judging by the way Skye and Jemma both started to shout for Phil, Melinda had to assume it was Fitz.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Kids? Talk to me. Skye?”

“ _Jemma has Fitz,”_ Skye said. “ _I got her, I traced her. I was right. Mountain of Smoke, Melinda. Go fucking rip her eyes out.”_

“Take care of them,” Melinda said. “Stay together.”

She paused and shook her head. ”Skye, she ought to be praying that’s the _only_  thing I do to her.”

She took out her phone again and made a call to a friend. Ten minutes later, she was standing in front of a small home, a car waiting for her in the driveway.

“I haven’t seen you in Bahrain in a long while, Melinda,” the man in front of her said. “Finally decided to retire? Mercs always make good money.”

“You might, but I’m not interested,” she said. “Thank you for the car.”

“Anything for the beautiful woman who saved my life, but even so, I’m curious. What do you need it for?” he asked.

“I need to go kill some men,” Melinda replied, cool and quiet as she shook his hand. “Thank you, Hamad. I appreciate it, I do.”

“Best of luck, tiger lady,” he said. She gave him a filthy look.

“I am not an animal,” she said firmly. “I am an avenger.”

“Aren’t they those spangly rich boys in New York? Is _that_ who you’re hanging out with these days?” he said, incredulous.

Melinda smiled as she took the keys from him and got into the car. “No. But I have a friend who does.”

He waved her off as she got in the car and sped off, tires squealing and hands gripping the wheel so tight that her fingers shook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'll be completely honest; I really just couldn't write an explicit rape scene, and I'm sorry if that takes away from the work, but...I just really couldn't do much more than that. Sorry, everyone. I'm willing to let the guy get beat half to death but I just can't break him THAT much? Also it's personally excruciating to write in graphic detail...so, uh, hope it still comes off okay. Don't worry, like, the next 4 chapters are just pain and suffering.


	3. Motive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward gets treated to a motive rant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the shorter chapters, sorry about that. I hope it's still pretty good! I didn't want to rush the whole rescue thing, so I tried to stagger the torture chapters somewhat.   
> Trigger warnings apply for discussion of rape and forced drugging, and general violence. I know I have warnings up, but a secondary reminder can't hurt, yeah?  
> Thank you for everyone that comes and comments, I appreciate it so much! I know this is a smaller pairing and stuff, but I appreciate all the love.

Ward came off the drugs two hours later, vomiting copiously as he shook and trembled and screamed for Melinda. Every time he said her name, someone hurt him; he was hit and kicked and slapped and cut, his body slowly adjusting to the pain the more it came.

He screamed nonetheless, his throat raw and bleeding. Their wounds didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he hurt. Only Melinda. Only Melinda. Melinda would come for him. Then the hurt wouldn’t matter anymore. She was coming to save him, she was…

Ward watched as the woman walked into his chamber and waited until she was closer to throw up on her shoes. The petty triumph was completely worth the blow to his ribs.

“How pleasant,” she said. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Do you know what I drugged you with? Enough chemical stimulant that you should’ve been begging every man I had in that room to fuck you. And yet you didn’t. You screamed for her. You begged them to stop despite your body’s cravings.”

She grabbed his chain and dragged him out of the chamber. Ward tried to yank the chain from her hands and bolt; she wrapped it twice around her hand and dragged him up the stairs, back into her room. She chained him to the wall and went into the bathroom, coming back out with a bucket.

She dumped water over him, making him yelp and shiver in pain as he dripped onto the floor. The water was almost ruby-red when it leaked off of his back.

“I suppose I should admire that,” she said. “Do you know what love is, Agent Grant Ward? Is she all the love you have? Everything good in the world to you? The only support you have in life?”

“Fuck you,” Ward spat. “You wouldn’t understand. Not about _her_. She’s too good to be understood by monstrous bitches like _you_.”

“I see,” she said, taking something from a trunk at the foot of her bed.

She laid a prayer mat out on the floor and checked the clock. “I have a few minutes.”

She took a scarf from her drawers and smiled as she regarded it. “HYDRA does not permit me to wear this during missions or our meetings. They say it is part of the oppressive regime they helped overthrow and it will only confuse the people we are trying to save.”

She wrapped it over her head and tied it properly, tucking her hair in neatly with a shake of her head before changing her shirt to cover her arms. “Perhaps they have a point, but I don’t really care. I am not here because I wish to be saved from oppression. I joined simply to destroy S.H.I.E.L.D., and Melinda May along with them.”

“If you lay even a _hand_ on Melinda, I’ll rip it off and choke you to death with it,” Ward snarled. “I _swear_ I will.”

“You’re so sweet,” she said. “Such a strong, noble heart for a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. It’s interesting, I suppose. But I do pity you, I think. You have fallen in love with a woman whose heart is ashes and thorns in her chest.”

“You don’t know her,” Ward snapped. “You could _never_ know her like I do. How _vulnerable_ she is, how _good_ she is, how much she still hurts because of everything she’s _done_ —you don’t know Melinda! You could _never_! Not like _I do!”_

“You love her, I know. Did we not have this discussion? Don’t you think I knew that before I chose to take you? I did not undertake this mission lightly. It has been years in the making,” she said, putting the finishing touches on her hijab.

She stretched out and settled in before her mat, regarding him. “Does she make your life worth living? Would you be able to survive without her? Would you be turned out, hated by others close to you, left alone on the streets if you did not have her?”

“Doesn’t matter if I wouldn’t have anyone else,” Ward snarled. “Even if I did, they wouldn’t matter. Not without her. Not without Melinda.”

“I see,” she said. “Let me tell you a story, then. About a girl, you see. Do you like girls, Ward?”

He swore at her in Arabic. She smiled.

“All right,” she said. “There was a little girl once, no older than four or five. Her name was Ghufran Abedin. She had a father whom she loved more than anything. After the death of her mother, he treated her like a princess. She was all he had left, you see. And he was her only relative, as the rest of the family had shunned him for taking his daughter instead of leaving her with her grandparents, who were vastly wealthier.”

She checked the clock again and frowned. “Ah, six-sixteen. Time for Isha. Time is an awful thing, you know. The time with your loved ones is too short; the time you spend without them makes every second an eternity.”

Ward watched her perform the prayers, speaking quietly in Arabic. He closed his eyes and tried to block everything else out. His body felt numb from before. Thinking about the violation made his head swim, so he let it drop. He did not think of the pain. He did not think of the degradation. He thought only of Melinda.

“Anyway,” Ghufran said as she rose, straightening up and leaving her mat to sit in front of him. “Forgive me. Times are very exact for our prayers. There are certain places I prefer to be to face Mecca. You understand.”

Ward said nothing. She shrugged and shook her head. “Continuing on in our story, you must remember; the little girl was only four or five. She had needs, and she was young. He had to support her. And so he took whatever work he could find.”

Her eyes darkened as she sat in front of him, folding her hands on her lap. “Eventually, his work led him to cross paths with S.H.I.E.L.D., and when he did, the father paid for it.”

She was quiet for a second. “They gave me his ashes. That was all I ever had of my father. Ashes. I could not bring him with me. I could not hold his hand when it was late and we would walk home together from his newest job. I could not be with my father as I grew, to have his guidance and his comfort and his love. All I had were his ashes.”

Ghufran smiled. “I wish I could end this story happily, but does any story ever end well? Perhaps they never end at all.”

She shrugged. “In any case, the things I have done as a girl without a family on the streets before I found HYDRA have made my soul strong. I will kill her. I will burn her before you. And I will suffocate you on her ashes. As she did to me.”

There was a beat of silence before Ward shook his head in disgust.

“I don’t give a damn about your sob story,” Ward said, his voice sharp. “None of it justifies any of this. Not a single fucking word. You think you’re the _only one_ who’s watched family die? You think you’re the _only person_ who’s ever felt lost and alone and wronged by other people? You disgust me. You and every other villain I meet in this business.”

Ward looked up at her, his eyes burning. “Every last one of you, no matter what you tell me, you have the same damn motive. Self-pity. Does _that_ make you strong? Does that make you do _anything_ but turn on yourself and break down? Does it really _help?_ ”

“Would _you_ have wished to survive as a child on the streets, Agent Ward?” she asked. “Would you have _enjoyed_ being on your own and stealing to survive?”

“Does anyone?” Ward retorted. “There are the people who make choices like you—and then there are people like me. And we make the choice to help people because of what we’ve endured. Not cause more pain.”

He licked his lips and came away with coppery blood. He smiled. “So give me whatever sob story you want. If you think it’ll make me love Melinda any less, you’re wrong. If you think I didn’t know what she’s done, what she _can_ do, the things she’s capable of committing—you’re wrong. If you think I don’t love her anyway, that I’ll _always_ love her, because I know the person behind the actions she has to undertake sometimes—then you’ve never been more wrong in your life. So you can just go to hell.”

She regarded him for a few minutes, silent. Ward tensed and prepared for a knife, another blow, something, _anything_ other than the tense silence.

“You are so brash,” she said. “So stubborn and childish. Like you never quite grew up.”

She stood and unhooked his chain, dragging him from the room. “There is so much already broken within you. I really don’t think I’ll have to work hard to tear you down.”

She held up her phone and smiled. “You might love her in spite of everything, Agent Ward, but now my question is this; do you think after she has seen you scrabbling in your own blood, naked and vulnerable, she will love you back?”

Ward said nothing in response, letting her drag him down the stairs and out into an enormous open bath. She pushed him into the water and smiled when he screamed in pain.

“Have him scrubbed and his wounds attended to,” she said. “Dose him again with painkillers and meet me in the training grounds. Melinda May is coming. I want this weapon ready.”

Ward’s mind was still numb with shock and fear as he was submerged beneath the water, and it wasn’t until hours later, after another string of drugs being pumped into his veins and the unbinding of his hands and ankles, that he stood with a gun in his hands and realized what they wanted him to become.

He tried to throw the gun aside, but there was the cold, sharp feeling of another one pressed into the back of his head.

Ward licked his lips and tried to stop shaking.

“After you’ve proven to me you can actively shoot without fear, you can wear a blindfold,” Ghufran said from behind him. “For now, you are going to shoot to kill, Agent Ward. You will be a weapon by the time Melinda arrives.”

“Fuck you,” Ward said, ignoring the blow to his shoulder with the gun. “Hell with all of you, I won’t—“

He heaved when he saw the door open and a group of wide-eyed people shuffle through, some of them holding children or entwining their hands with each other.

“No,” Ward said, turning around and drawing his gun on Ghufran. “No, god damn you, _no—“_

“You’re a berserker, whether you like it or not,” she said. “The myths of the Nordic men are not the myths of my faith. But I have seen them proven true time and again as of late; the arrival of Thor, the Tesseract…and now you. You have a berserker rage in you, and I am going to pull it out.”

Before he could pull the trigger, she was on him, pulling his hair and tilting his head back to bite his neck, digging her hands into his sides before running them teasingly up his hips.

“Do you hate this, Agent Ward? You must,” she said. “I had all those men fuck you and you still screamed for Melinda. Do you think that true love, Agent Ward? Do you think she would love you back if I had you for myself?”

“Go to hell,” Ward said, his voice breaking. “Go to _hell_ , don’t touch me, _don’t touch me_ —“

“Did it hurt when you were raped, Agent Ward? Do you remember the way you had other men inside you, other hands touching your body the way she touches you? Do you remember being defiled?” she murmured with a smile as she kissed his neck.

Ward shivered, his entire body burning, screaming at him to run while locking his limbs up in terror.

“Melinda does,” she promised him. “Melinda remembers because I made her watch. And whatever you might block out, she never will. And you will never have her love back.”

The sickness in his stomach burst and flooded his body with something that burned, his skin slick with sweat and his eyes shining, glittering like a fire. Ghufran smiled and pressed a syringe to his arm as she kissed him, plunging a needle into his system.

Ward backhanded her across the face with a sickening crack. Ghufran hit the wall and cracked her jaw into place with a smile as Ward started to scream, raw and savage.

Eventually, the darkness came for him somewhere in the burning river he’d been drowned in, but his limbs still moved and his mind still reeled in horror for hours more until finally, _finally,_ someone stuck a syringe in his neck and he sank to his knees.

“Melinda May is en route, ma’am,” someone said. “She’s at the base of the mountain and she should be here in about an hour.”

“Really? Glad to hear it,” Ghufran said with a smile. Someone pulled Ward to his feet as she spoke. She waved them off. “No, no, don’t wash him off. The blood is more intimidating. Let her see what we have made him into.”

The blood. The blood. The blood.

Ward was dragged somewhere dry and dusty and tossed on the ground to shake and shiver in agony. “Melinda?” he breathed, tears running down his face. “Melinda?”

Nothing but the wind ran caresses over his skin. No voice, soft and fond and full of safety, was carried on the breeze.


	4. Battle Without Honor or Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melinda and Ghufran have a showdown. Ward gets bruised and broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most gore-heavy chaper, so I'd say skip the fight scene if it bothers you. God, I do not enjoy writing fight scenes. Despite being a writer I firmly believe they're just better off conveyed visually, but it's a little hard to do, lol. I hope this chapter's up to snuff! Enjoy!

At the base of the mountain, Melinda looked around at a tiny village; no more than ten houses and a few stores in the main square.

She looked up at the flag hanging above one of the stores and shuddered. “HYDRA does refugee camps now?”

“ _Specific to this region, yeah,”_ Skye said. “ _S’part of this whole post Arab Spring takeover.”_

She paused for a second. “ _Hey, Melinda? You gonna be going to get him soon?”_

“It’ll be another hour,” she said. “There’s a clear path up to the base; it’s not hidden like the ones you saw in your history book. They actually want people to see them now.”

“ _Okay. Just be safe, please? And—and I mean it. I don’t like killing, I don’t. But rip out her eyes. Or like, break her spine over your knee. Whatever it is you do.”_

“I’m the Cavalry,” she said, her tone low and trembling like spilled blood. “I come in with my guns blazing and I leave nothing in my wake.”

She laughed. “It used to drive me mad when people called me that. I knew they meant it like an insult. I knew what they implied with every little snipe at my title.”

She drew her gun and got out of the car, looking around the little village carefully for signs of life before she sighed and got back in the car, driving up the road towards base.

“Do you know what Ward told me more than anything, Skye?”

“ _That he loved you?”_

“That I’d saved him,” Melinda said with a smile. “Yes, that he loved me. He wears his heart on his sleeve, my sweet boy, he really does. But he always told me I’d saved him. That I’d made him feel safe from his nightmares, and that he always trusted me to have his back on missions. That—that no matter what, I’d protect him.”

She bit her lip briefly to stop the shudder running down her spine. “Skye, I have to do this. I have to do this by myself. So whatever you’ve been planning, land that plane somewhere else and wait for extraction. Because I’m the one he’s always counted on to save him. And I’ve failed him.”

There was a pause for just a second. Skye sighed.

“ _And Melinda May doesn’t tolerate failure?”_

“The Cavalry always arrives just in time,” she agreed.

“ _We’ll land back down near that little village. Do you think you can get him down the mountain?”_

“I’ve got a car, yes,” she said. “Tell Phil if he comes in as backup, I’ll have his head.”

“ _Put the gun down, AC!”_

Melinda smiled. “Mind letting him talk?”

“ _Sure thing. Melinda? Be safe. You’re Ward’s cavalry, but you’re our mom, okay?”_

Melinda nodded. “Okay. I will be. You handle everyone down there. I’m sure they’re panicking. I trust you to deal with that.”

“ _I will,”_ Skye promised before handing the phone off to Phil.

“ _You’re committing suicide.”_

“I am not,” she replied. “I would do it in a much more grandiose fashion than a mountain in Bahrain. On fire before the sun, perhaps. Ritualistic sword-based battles to the death. That sort of thing.”

“ _You’re going into a HYDRA base alone to get Ward out and you don’t expect to get seriously injured?”_

“Oh, I do,” she said. “In fact, I suspect I’m going to have a fight on my hands. I might’ve done desk work for a few years, Phil, but I know how killing fields get reaped.”

“ _You think you’re going to go reaper on everyone?”_

“I’m the Cavalry, I can’t be a reaper too,” Melinda said. “No, I’m not. But I…I’m worried about Grant. The berserker staff…and after what they did to him, and…”

“ _We think they’re trying to turn him into a human weapon, yes,”_ Phil agreed. “ _Be careful, regardless of what you find. Because if we’re right about all this, you might make it through the base unscathed. All Ghufran wants is to kill you. And she won’t let anyone but herself do that.”_

“Comforting,” Melinda said with a little chuckle.

“ _For a measure of comforting,”_ Phil agreed. “ _We’re going to hit the Mountain of Smoke in about ten minutes. When we land, I promise we’ll wait for your signal—but at least have us prepared for extraction.”_

“Of course,” Melinda said. “I want you to keep the comm on. Just in case.”

“ _I didn’t leave you in Bahrain on your own before. I’m certainly not going to now.”_

She smiled; small and worn, but genuine.

“You’re a gift from heaven sometimes, Phil,” she said. “I don’t know what S.H.I.E.L.D. would do without you.”

“ _Why do you think heaven sent me back?”_ Phil replied. “ _Aside from the fact that I did paperwork better than the celestial bureaucracies.”_

Melinda actually laughed, though it died abruptly in her throat when she rounded the corner and saw the HYDRA base looming before her.

She killed the engine and got out, drawing Ward’s jacket tighter around her.

“ _Melinda?”_

“This place stinks of blood,” she said, looking around with a shudder. “I think someone came here and reaped a killing field before I even arrived.”

Phil was silent for a second, letting her own words sink in.

“Oh, god, _no,”_ she murmured. “ _Grant.”_

She ran in, her boots thudding on the dry, cracked earth as she slammed her shoulder into the door, breaking it down and standing in the base, gun drawn.

“Grant?” she called.

There was silence in the enormous marble foyer for a minute. Melinda turned around and around, looking at her surroundings and frowning. The foyer was enormous and wide, and mostly empty, save for a flight of stairs.

There was something heavy and terrible in the air. But it didn’t quite feel like a killing field. It wasn’t rotten enough.

Melinda walked once around the length of the foyer, her boots thudding on the marble floor. There was an open gate to a pool and courtyard outside; she could hear the water sloshing softly in the dead silence.

“Grant? I’m here!” she called. “It’s all right, I’m here!”

For a second, it was still quiet enough that she could hear the thud of her heart.

“Oh, would you look at that?” a soft, teasing voice said. “Looks like the Cavalry has arrived.”

Melinda raised her gun to the woman that stood before her with an enormous smile. In one hand, she held a gun; in the other, she held a leash, attached to a trembling, blood-covered figure, his head covered by a bag.

The bag didn’t matter. She would have recognized that body anywhere; she knew it so well, had caressed it and stroked it gently and promised its owner safety so often that she knew it better than her own, was kinder to it than her own.

Melinda snarled, savage and rough. Briefly, dimly, she thought back to how Hamad had called her a tiger.

She was no animal. But she would enjoy the kill, just this once.

“Grant,” she said, her voice slow and soft as she tried to restrain her rage. “Grant, it’s Melinda. I’ve come for you, sweet one. I’m here, darling. Grant?”

Ghufran yanked the bag off his head and Melinda froze. His face was covered in blood, slowly rotting from crimson to a dark, harsh brown, and even the stark whites of his eyes _burned._

“A human weapon,” Ghufran said. “That was what you were, weren’t you? A human weapon that killed all those people. That killed my father.”

“You raped my lover and tortured him until he lost his mind,” Melinda retorted. “I killed your father in an accident. I find it hard to see how I’m still the villain here.”

“Because without you, this would’ve never _happened_!” Ghufran snapped. Ward strained at his leash at the sound of her voice. She slapped him across the face and Melinda snarled at the sight, firing her gun.

Ghufran ignored the bullet, letting blood pour from the dark hole on her shoulder with a shrug.

“You could’ve done so much,” Melinda said. “You could’ve done a hundred other things with your life other than this. You could’ve been happy, for one. But I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t made this choice. You’re the one who chose to close the circle, Ghufran. Not me. I’m only here because you got Grant involved. You made me _dangerous._ And you should know how dangerous I can be.”

“Oh, I know,” she said. “I _wanted_ you here. I _know_ how dangerous you are.”

She smiled and unclipped the leash around Grant’s neck. “So I made a weapon more dangerous than you could ever hope to be. Because now? He’s not even _human._ ”

She kicked him down the stairs and he went skidding, hitting his hands and knees and jumping off the bottom of the stairs with a surge of power, hitting the floor on his feet like a cat.

Melinda dropped her gun and raised her hands.

“Grant,” she said. “Grant, sweet one, darling, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m right here…”

He snarled at her and it went right to her heart, making it shudder and tremble.

“Grant,” she whispered. “Please, I’m sorry. I got here as fast as I could. I’m here, Grant, please. The Cavalry came, my love. Grant—“

He swung a fist at her; she dodged, but it clipped her jaw and she felt the bone snap.

Melinda swallowed, blood in her mouth. Berserker. Right.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I love you, my sweet boy. Please forgive me when you’re yourself again.”

She pounced on him and kicked him in the chest; he wheezed and she threw him to the side, sending him skidding across the foyer floor. Her stomach heaved at the swipe of blood across the marble that he left in his wake.

He tried to get up and growled at her; it was weak and it trembled in his throat.

Melinda stood and watched, still and silent, as Ward rose to his feet and rose his fists in front of his face, hunched and defensive. The pain in her heart made her whole body burn as she held out her hands.

“Grant, please don’t—Grant, come with me, I’m right here, we can go—darling, _please—“_

He bolted across the room and swung his fist towards her face; she ducked and grasped it, throwing him to the floor as she twisted and turned with him, guiding his fall to the floor. He swung his legs out and knocked her off her feet; she grabbed him and held him close, hitting the floor hard on her back and letting him lay on her chest.

He gazed down at her, wide-eyed and wild. Melinda exhaled and it felt like glass shattering in her chest.

“My sweetheart,” she murmured. “Grant, I’m sorry.”

He snarled and bit her neck; she grabbed his hair and yanked him away from her, squaring her feet and shoving him off.

She paused for a second before she winced and threw him across the floor, sending him sliding until he hit the pillar standing beside the gate leading outside, the side of his head cracking against the stone.

Blood dripped from his mouth as he stood for a second only to slump against the pillar, his entire body trembling in pain and fear, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe through broken ribs. He tried to snarl at her, but the cry got stuck in his throat and shattered into a desperate whimper.

Melinda approached, but the soothing words she was trying to say were cut short as a gun went off; Ward screamed, trying to scrabble away from the bullet hole that was only inches from where he had been a second before.

Melinda whirled around and stared at Ghufran, eyes blazing as the woman casually reloaded her gun.

“If you don’t get up, the next one will go in your leg,” she said. “I pulled out all the stops to make you a weapon; the least you could do is _act like it!”_

“I’m going to take my sweet time tearing you apart when this is done,” Melinda promised, her hands clenched into fists. “God help me, I’ll kill you, I’ll _kill you_ —“

Something clicked in Melinda, and she realized then with a numb, quiet triumph that Grant was not the only one who had handled the berserker staff.

She closed her eyes and sought control over the burning core her heart had become. Ward’s whimpers of pain and fear stirred it on, burning brighter and brighter until she opened her eyes, the dark irises blazing like a dying star.

She knelt and reached out her hand, gesturing to Ward. “Sweetheart? Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

“No more,” he whimpered, fresh blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. “Please, no more. No more. I won’t stop bleeding. Please, please make it stop. Please, ‘Linda, love you…”

“I know you do,” she murmured. “It’s okay, sweet one. I’m right here. It’s all going to go away soon. Can I hold you?”

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please…”

Melinda picked Ward up, kissing his forehead before carrying him outside and laying him down in the shallow end of the pool, settling him in so he could sit without fear of drifting off. She cupped water in her hand and tried to wash off his face as best as she could, running a little palmful of water through his hair as well.

“I’ll be back, sweet one,” she promised him. “Lie down and rest now. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to save you.”

Ward smiled, soft and vague before he slipped into unconsciousness. Melinda stroked his cheek and stood up, storming back into the foyer and pulling his jacket tighter around her.

“You wanted to deal with a human weapon?” she said. “You have one.”

Ghufran raised her gun and shot her; the bullet grazed Melinda’s cheek. She barely noticed the blood pouring down onto her shoulder as she smiled and took the stairs three at a time, dodging bullets like they moved through water.

Melinda grabbed her by the throat and bared her teeth, the sharp burning savagery of the berserker staff kindling brighter at the terror on her face.

“You know,” Melinda said with the hint of a casual smile. “You might’ve only involved me in this and lived. I would have let it end with an arrest by S.H.I.E.L.D.; a fair trial somewhere for attempted murder.”

Ghufran took out a knife and stabbed her in the side; Melinda pulled out the knife with a casual shrug before sinking it into her chest.

“I would have,” she said as she watched the other woman sputter and choke. “Because I am not the woman your father met in Bahrain all those years ago.”

She lifted Ghufran up by her throat over the balcony of the foyer. “But I want you to know why you died, Ghufran. You thought taking something dear from me would cripple me, like it did to you.”

Melinda’s grip tightened as the other woman wheezed, clawing at Melinda’s hand. Melinda held firm.

“All you did by taking Ward from me was make me more dangerous,” she said. “You made me into something I haven’t been since I killed your father. A human weapon.”

She shrugged. “Take some comfort. You’ll die like he did.”

She pulled out another gun from her holster and shot Ghufran in the face before dropping her unceremoniously to the foyer floor. The crack of bones and the wet thud of blood-soaked flesh barely made Melinda bat an eyelash as she descended the steps, blood dripping from the wounds on her body until her footprints were crimson on the marble floor.

She went outside and stood over Ward’s pale, unconscious body. For a second, something hot and awful surged in her chest; here laid something vulnerable, something she could kill with ease.

He stirred and opened his eyes, and when he smiled, weak but genuine, his eyes bright with tears, the berserker instinct fled entirely.

“Melinda?” he whispered. “Melinda, am I dead?”

“No, Grant, no,” she hushed him, getting into the water and lifting him up, cradling him to her chest and ignoring the way her body screamed in pained protest. “Why would you ever think that?”

“You’re right,” Grant murmured with a sigh. “I don’t think I’d be in heaven either.”

Melinda kissed his forehead. “Then you’ll have to settle for me, won’t you?”

His hand took hers, his grip shaky but his fingers firm as he interwove them with hers.

“It’s not settling,” he promised her before he closed his eyes and sighed. Melinda nudged him awake as she carried him out of the base and to the car, buckling him in.


	5. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melinda brings Ward home where he belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a little short, I'm sorry, I split a big chapter in two! I really hope you enjoy this one. It's mostly just sad fluff.

She drove for a few minutes in silence before she saw him trying to fall asleep again; she tsked and ruffled his hair, waking him with a shake of her head.

“You can’t sleep,” she told him, “you might have a concussion.”

“Don’t care,” Ward said. “Melinda? I hurt. I hurt all over.”

“I know, Grant,” she murmured as she started the car. “I’m sorry.”

“They drugged me,” Ward said, his voice soft and fearful. “Melinda, it hurt. Melinda, they drugged me with so much, all the time. It made my head hurt and my body burn. Melinda, I don’t want to be drugged anymore.”

“No one’s going to drug you, I promise,” she promised as they started to drive down the mountain path. “Jemma will have to sedate you so we can get you medical attention before S.H.I.E.L.D. responds, but no more hard drugs.”

“Okay,” Ward said, leaning his head on her shoulder and cringing. Melinda’s heart ached at how vulnerable he sounded. He put his hand on her thigh and stroked it; not with any intent to go farther, just to feel her alive beneath him.

“What about, um…the rape?” he asked. “What am I going to do now, Melinda? You saw. You saw. You did, she said, you saw…”

“You weren’t responsible for that,” Melinda said, gritting her teeth and trying not to think of how he had screamed for her, called her name when he was being hurt. “You were drugged and taken advantage of against your will so she could degrade you and break you, make you her weapon. Do you think I’d accuse you of cheating?”

“No,” Ward mumbled. “But I thought you might think I was dirty, and you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

He closed his eyes and moved his hand from her lap. She took one hand off the steering wheel and put it back.

“I want you,” she said. “I want you safe, and sound, and feeling like you can trust me. Can you, Ward?”

She sighed. “I know I screwed up. I came as fast as I could, but it wasn’t fast enough. You were alone and terrified, and—and I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry.”

“You did, though,” Ward promised. “You did, Melinda. Please don’t cry. You came to save me. I’m okay.”

“I’m not crying,” she said firmly. Ward smiled.

“Yeah you are,” he said, a little laugh leaving his lips. “It’s okay. Don’t cry, though. Pretty ladies shouldn’t have to cry.”

Melinda said nothing; she just squeezed his hand in complete silence.

They were quiet for a few minutes more as she drove.

“I killed a lot of people,” Ward said suddenly. “I don’t remember it much, but I do. They drugged me again and made me angry, so I went berserk. Melinda, I killed so many people…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Melinda said. “In situations like that, those sort of people are doomed from the start. If you hadn’t killed them, Ghufran and her men would’ve ended up killing them until you did. And if you never picked up a weapon, they would just bring in more and more people until you finally gave in.”

She sighed. “We’re not superheroes, Ward. There’s no easy answer. But no matter what you do, I’ll still love you. And…and that’s something, I suppose.”

“It’s everything,” he said.

Melinda pursed her lips and nodded. Ward smiled.

“You’re crying again…” he teased.

Melinda said nothing. He just grinned and leaned into her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss into it.

“If you blame yourself for getting me involved,” he said, “don’t, please. Not your fault. Not at all. It wasn’t you that hurt me, or drugged me, or raped me. Please don’t blame yourself. I don’t want you to hurt over this anymore. Okay?”

“Okay,” Melinda said with a sigh. “They hurt you. But I repaid the debt. And that’s all I can ask for right now.”

She smoothed his hair back, soft and affectionate. “Apart from taking care of you.”

Ward smiled the rest of the ride down the mountain. He drifted off every so often; Melinda woke him consistently, pressing kisses into his hair, his forehead, his cheeks, and ignoring the feel of the blood on her lips. He grumbled and whined when she woke him without fail.

“Sweet one, I’m sorry, but please be patient,” she said. “You could be in danger, and I can’t have you falling asleep. We’re almost home. Jemma will fix you up so you can sleep again.”

She paused for a second and exhaled. Home. Right. The reference had been reflexive; it fell off her tongue so neatly, so easily.

The Bus was home now, before she’d even had a chance to realize it. And Ward was her home, too.

She shook her head and finished rounding the last bend, driving through the village and making her way to the plane. The emptiness of all the houses pricked at her skin, making her shiver, but she did not remark upon it. Ward didn’t need to be thinking about it.

She barely had time to unlock the car before the rest of the team descended on Ward; Jemma was shaking as she clung to him, crying into his shoulder as Skye kissed his cheeks and smoothed back his hair, and Fitz helped him out of the car before hugging him tight and shooing the girls off of him with an insistent, “We actually need to get him onto the stretcher, ladies!”

“You’re alive, oh my god, I was so _worried,_ I thought you’d—well, I knew Melinda would save you, but I didn’t imagine you’d be conscious…” Jemma said, frowning as she surveyed him. “You’ve been through quite a lot, haven’t you, darling?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ward said with a little yawn. “Melinda said. Concussion, Jemmy.”

“Oh, probably,” she whispered, tracing the wound on his eye. “Come along, dear. Let’s get you settled in, come on, I’ve got you—“

“Excuse you,” Skye protested. Jemma smiled as she helped Ward onto the gurney, ruffling his hair.

“All right, we’ve got you,” she said. “But I’m the one doing the treatment.”

“With the tools _I developed!”_

“Oh, hush, all of you,” Jemma said, kissing Ward’s forehead before pushing the gurney up the ramp and into the plane, Skye and Fitz following next to the gurney on either side, like guardians attending their charge.

Melinda stood in front of the plane, arms crossed and a small smile on her face. Phil stood next to her with a little sheepish grin.

“Sorry the kids snatched him up like that,” he said. “I had to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know we needed assistance, and it was all I could do to keep Skye from reaching through the phone to choke the Director.”

“I’m sure it would’ve been a sight,” Melinda agreed. Phil snorted.

“I almost had her threatening to stab him right in his empty socket on the call, so thankfully, Jemma got her out of the room on time,” he said.

“Oh, good,” Melinda said.

“Not before she threatened to poison his coffee, however,” Phil said, rubbing his temples. “Jemma’s oddly terrifying when she’s angry.”

“Honestly? I’m not surprised,” Melinda said. “And Fitz?”

“Leo took care of them for a bit. Calmed them down and helped them set up the lab for whatever Ward might need. Short of them having implanted a reactor in his chest, we’re set for whatever medical treatment he’s going to need until S.H.I.E.L.D. arrives,” Phil said, getting onto the plane. Melinda got back in the car and drove the car up, parking it and getting out as the ramp closed.

“Well, that’s…good,” she murmured. Phil gave her a smile.

“You can go to him, you know,” he said. “You can sit in on the surgery, if you think you’re up to it. The kids wouldn’t dare tell you no.”

“No, I know,” Melinda said. “I just…shouldn’t go to him like this.”

“Then go shower,” Phil said, his voice gentle. “I’ll take care of this for a little bit. You’ve done enough. Go shower and clean up, and then we’ll see to him. Okay?”

“Right,” she said, making her way for her room. “Phil?”

“Mm?” he said, making his way down to the lab. She smiled.

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

“Oh, ah…you’re welcome,” Phil said with a smile. “I’m just glad I can help. You’re part of my team, both of you. You know that.”

Melinda smiled and nodded, disappearing into her room. Phil sighed and shook his head as soon as she’d shut the door, rubbing his temples and making his way to the lab.

“How is he?” he asked Jemma. She smiled apologetically.

“Ah, I had to sedate him,” she said. “I still need to sterilize him, he’s absolutely covered in blood…but after, ah…after what we saw, I don’t think it’s wise or fair to try to strip him naked while he’s awake.”

“You did the right thing,” Phil said, smoothing her hair from where it had fallen in from of her eyes. Skye stood behind her, binding it up into a bun tightly. “I know you’re worried; you have every right to be.”

“It’s just, sir, he protects us,” Jemma said. “He takes fantastic care of us all, even if he never owns up to it! He’s…he watches over Fitz and I so attentively, especially. I’ve noticed, even if he doesn’t mention it. And—and this is all I can do for him, and I feel like it isn’t enough…”

“You know it is,” Phil said, his voice gentle. “All of us looking out for him? It’s all he wants. You’re fine, Jemma.”

She nodded and pursed her lips, treating a fresh washcloth with iodine before swiping it slowly over his body, washing off the blood with a little huff as she worked it in circles. Skye and Leo grabbed washcloths and pitched in as Phil pulled up a chair and settled in, writing down the details of the mission. He wouldn’t ask either of them to give a debriefing. 


	6. Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melinda sits with Grant and learns some things about the incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who haven't read my prior MCU works, Athena Danvers has actually shown up there before; I promise I didn't totally pull her out of my ass. She's a minor OC of mine, the head of the SHIELD medical department. She was only supposed to show up once or twice but she's interesting, and I like her. (And yes, she started as a reference to Carol Danvers--she's her mother in this universe.)  
> Anyways, trigger warning for description of wounds and mentions of past rape in this chapter, okay? Just skip around Athena and Melinda's conversations. Sorry this is a little late, I held it back to polish up the other fic, too!

Melinda scrubbed herself down with burning water and lavender soap. She had other scents, but Ward had pressed his face into her neck and announced this one as his favorite more often than any other.

She scrubbed his leather jacket free of blood but tossed the tee shirt in the trash; the jacket, she knew he only had two of. The shirts, well—she figured he would survive, but even so, she’d give him one of hers if she had to.

Melinda smiled at the thought before opening her drawers. She couldn’t stand to wear her uniform right now. It had been a long time since she’d worn anything else on the Bus; there was a certain power in the others seeing her wearing her gear on a constant basis.

But this was her home now, whether she was only realizing it now or not. And Ward deserved more than her combat fatigues.

Melinda sighed and rifled through her clothes until she found a pair of jeans; simple enough, sure, but a shirt was harder.

She eventually threw her hands up and went with one she’d been hanging onto since she was a kid; an old Beatles concert shirt. She hadn’t attended; her mother had on a trip to London, but she’d had the shirt since she could remember.

She held it up before putting it on, trying to remember if Ward had ever seen her in it. She doubted it.

She sighed and looked down at her tossed-aside leather boots and flak jacket. Christ. When was the last time she had been genuinely vulnerable in front of her lover?

She had no idea, of course, but that would change. She owed him that much.

Melinda sighed and pulled on a pair of socks and shoes; simple scarlet slippers with flowers embroidered in gold on them. Ward had always thought they were pretty.

She made her way down into the lab and sat down beside Phil, trying not to smile when she heard Fitz drop a tray of supplies.

“Fitz!” Jemma said, snatching them up. “For god’s sake, what—oh!”

She stood up abruptly with the dirty instruments before putting them in the sink. “Melinda?”

“I wasn’t aware jeans and a tee-shirt would cause such a fuss,” she said. “Would I give someone a heart attack if I wore a skirt?”

“Yeah, because it’s weird,” Skye said, suturing a cut on Ward’s side shut. Melinda raised an eyebrow. Skye shrugged. “I got into fights a lot.”

“Really? I’m shocked,” Fitz teased. Skye rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him before she finished, patting Ward’s side.

“It’s okay, bro,” she promised him. “Melinda’s here.”

Melinda smiled and settled in, letting her shoulders slump and her entire body relax for a brief moment. Her team was here and Ward was safe. It was all right.

As the surgery went on, her posture started to tighten up and her jaw clenched. Phil put a quiet hand on her shoulder, squeezing every so often. Jemma was careful as she sterilized each cut and stitched them up, counting them up and taking down notes.

Melinda was numb when she heard Jemma murmur, “Sixty-five lacerations to the skin…”

She pressed plasters and bandages over the front of his body before carefully turning him over. The skin on his back was bloodied and raw; Melinda saw Fitz pale and sit down, rubbing his temples and closing his eyes. Skye sat down next to Phil and pushed her face into his shoulder, shaking.

Jemma stood firm and carefully stroked iodine over the entire expanse of Ward’s back, the stink filling the room and making Fitz and Skye retch. Melinda just closed her eyes, breathing in and out as carefully as she could.

Jemma wrapped his back up carefully and murmured in apology, “Sorry, I just…I can’t stitch him, I don’t want to aggravate the rest of his skin.”

“It’s all right,” Melinda promised as she took Phil’s hand and squeezed it. Jemma nodded, moving down carefully, wiping his thighs free of blood and examining him with pursed lips, trying not to shake.

“Oh, god,” she whispered. “Oh, Melinda. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Melinda said. “He needs medical attention. I’m certainly not going to blame you for—“

“Melinda, they used a knife,” Jemma murmured.

Phil hissed in pain when Melinda’s grip on his hand suddenly tightened.

She said nothing. Jemma just let the wound be, but made a note of it on the ongoing tally of Ward’s injuries as she changed her gloves.

She stitched up the cuts on his thighs, mopping a bit of antibiotic ointment over the cuts and bruises, stroking his side gently as if in apology before she picked up a pair of tweezers and took some stone and glass out of cuts on his feet, bandaging them as well before standing up, shaking her head, and leaving the room quietly.

She was gone for about five minutes. Skye had pulled Fitz into her arms, ruffling his hair and letting him lean on her shoulder silently as he took her hand.

Melinda sat with a face like stone as Jemma came back in, rubbing her temples.

The five of them sat in silence for a few minutes before Phil finally sighed and stood up. “We need to go make sure we’re meeting up with the Helicarrier. I’ll check the plane’s coordinates. Melinda?”

She barely moved. Phil put a hand on her shoulder. “You can stay with him. It’s okay.”

They all let her be after that, sitting quietly next to his sleeping body. Ward’s heart rate ticked by quietly, the machine beeping a steady rhythm as she watched him.

Melinda interwove his fingers in hers and closed her eyes, finally succumbing to complete and total exhaustion. A single tear ran down her face.

…

Melinda awoke when Phil shook her shoulder gently. “We’re landing on the Helicarrier, Melinda. I’d rather you fly the last leg of that.”

“I think Nick designed those landing sites out of spite,” she said with a soft sigh, standing up and shaking off the tightness in her muscles. “Is he all right?”

“Who, Grant? His vitals haven’t changed,” Phil promised. “He’ll be fine. I just wanted Athena to look over him. She’s the head of the med department, after all.”

“She’s probably had enough of our team showing up on her operating tables,” Melinda managed to joke. Phil sighed.

“Can’t be helped,” he murmured. “Don’t worry. She’ll take care of him. And the second he’s awake, you’ll know.”

“I will,” she said, “because I’m not leaving him.”

Phil nodded, letting her go to the cockpit and land the plane, deciding he’d let Fury have the fight with her on that one.

…

“I need to take him into surgery,” Athena said, looking him over and rubbing her temples. “Shit, poor kid’s a mess.”

“Not without me,” Melinda snapped, standing in front of him. “I’m going into surgery with him.”

Athena surveyed her for a brief second before she gestured to the medbay. “Get down there and get sterilized. And hurry up. I’ll tell the surgeons to let you in.”

Melinda nodded brusquely before she bolted down into the medbay, Athena yelling for her team as Phil relaxed.

“Thank god,” he said. “I thought she’d fight her on that one.”

“I think everyone knows better right now,” Jemma murmured. “Melinda’s been burning cold since we got here.”

“Mm? That’s observant,” Phil said. “You’ve noticed?”

Jemma shivered. “How could you not? We’ve all noticed, Phil!”

“She’s kind of scary,” Skye agreed. “Right now, I mean. She’s not…like, she’s not showing it? But I thought she was gonna snap someone’s neck when Jemmy talked about the knife.”

“Me too, to be honest,” Jemma said, shoulders slumping. Skye hushed her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, Fitz stroking her shoulders. Phil frowned.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I know she might’ve scared you, but she’s not a threat. She’s just trying to protect Ward. Stay with me while we’re on the Helicarrier, all right?”

The three of them nodded wordlessly, following after Phil.

“Are we going to get news about Ward as soon as he’s out of surgery?” Skye asked. Phil nodded.

“We will,” he promised. “For now, we can stay in my office. I’ve got some paperwork to process after all this, and you three need to calm down. It’s been a rough few days for you, hasn’t it?”

Jemma nodded, rubbing her eyes. “Oh, but not as bad as it’s been for Ward and Melinda…”

“Ssh, it’s not a contest.” Phil soothed her. “You’re fine, Jemma. You’ve got every right to be shaken. All three of you.”

He ushered them into his office and settled them in on the couch; it welcomed them agreeably, an old battered thing Clint had dragged in for him. He had done it with the intent of Phil taking a few naps when working overtime; instead, it had become a place for any agent in need of a place to relax and vent some grief to come sit and pour out their troubles, or at the very least, get a little sleep. More often than not, one of those agents was Clint himself.

Phil smiled fondly and pulled out a deep purple blanket, wrapping it around their shoulders and letting the trio huddle together.

“This is Clint’s, but I’m sure he won’t mind,” he promised. “You three take some time to calm down. I’ll be right here.”

They nodded, settling in as Phil sat down and uncapped his pen, getting to work. He looked up from his files every so often to see them settling in, slowly sinking down to snuggle against one another.

Jemma was the first to fall asleep, about a half-hour after Phil started his paperwork; Skye fell asleep soon after, and after a few concerned strokes of their hair, tucking them into ponytails to keep them out of both women’s eyes, Fitz settled in between them and drifted off.

Phil finished up his paperwork, looked over his team, and smiled as he stood up and went to fetch food, locking his office behind him with a small growl of concern, thinking of Ward down in surgery, and how stark his blood had looked against his pale skin.

…

Melinda closed her eyes and slumped against the wall, sighing softly as Athena re-stitched a few of Ward’s wounds.

“They used a knife,” Athena repeated, shaking her head in disgust. “Those motherfuckers used a knife on your boy, May.”

“I know,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I know.”

“It’s not infected, thank god,” Athena said with a sigh. “There’s a high likelihood of that, generally, considering the area…”

She shuddered. “What happened? ‘Cause you don’t go raping someone with a fucking knife over a petty grudge, May.”

“Bahrain happened,” Melinda said, then fell silent. Athena sighed.

“You know,” she said, “I was on the med team that treated you afterwards.”

“I remember,” she murmured. “I remember everything and everyone from that day.”

“Well, I’m not shocked,” Athena said. “But you were in pain, Melinda. I want you to remember you hurt from what you did. You kept telling us there were people that needed to be treated inside until the place was ashes.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Melinda snapped. Athena shrugged, turning her attention back to Ward, examining his wounds before gesturing for another surgeon.

“All I’m saying is you weren’t a monster,” she said. “And you didn’t deserve these old ghosts coming back to haunt you.”

“I don’t care about myself,” she said. “It’s him, Athena. He got caught up in this. All because of me, and what I did. It doesn’t matter if I felt human after.”

She sighed and slumped her shoulders, closing her eyes. “He got hurt because of me. And maybe he’d be better off—“

“No.”

Athena and Melinda both looked up, eyes wide.

“Grant?” Melinda said, getting up and bolting to his side, her hands shaking as she cupped his. “Grant, you’re supposed to be sleeping, god—“

“No more drugs,” Ward mumbled. “Can’t take it anymore. Woke up. It’s okay.”

He looked over at Athena. “Is it okay?”

“You’re fine, kid,” Athena said with a shake of her head. “We’re done with surgery. Just wasn’t expecting you to come out so quick.”

“Melinda needed me,” Ward said with a shrug. “Guess I knew.”

He took Melinda’s hand and kissed it. “Please don’t say I’d be better off someplace else. I wouldn’t be. Melinda, you’re all I’ve got. And I can’t lose you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Melinda said, her voice shaking. “Okay, Grant. But—“

“No,” he said firmly. “None of this was your fault. I don’t blame you. I love you. And I don’t want you to blame yourself, either. We talked about this.”

He sat up and shuddered in pain; Melinda went to support him, holding him close as he buried his face into her neck.

“None of this was your fault,” he promised her. “If you really want to do something good about it…maybe, um…stay and help? Just…stay with me. Promise me I’m safe. It’s all I want, Melinda; all I’ve ever wanted. Please?”

“Anything you want, beloved,” Melinda promised him, whispering soft endearments in Chinese and holding him close, running her hand lightly down his back before kissing his forehead. “I won’t go. I promise, I won’t go.”

“I do need to move him, though,” Athena said, her voice cutting through them both and making them squirm slightly. “I want him under observation for a week, which means your team is going to remain on the Helicarrier, I assume?”

“None of us are leaving him,” Melinda said. “I assure you.”

Ward relaxed into her touch and smiled. She managed to give him one more kiss before settling him back down on the bed and handing him off to Athena. She patted Ward’s shoulder lightly and wheeled him off towards the halls of the medbay. Melinda watched him go, and waited to dry her eyes until he disappeared from her sight.

She left the medbay in a sleek, strong flood of black; everyone who walked by her flinched at her passing, like a panther had entered their midst.

Melinda entered Phil’s office without so much as a knock, looking around before sighing and smiling, shaking her head.

Phil had settled in on the couch with his charges, sleeping with his head on Jemma’s shoulder, Clint’s blanket in his lap.

Melinda just tsked, going to get them another blanket and covering the four of them as she settled in, sitting down in Phil’s chair and taking out a book from off his shelf, opening it up and starting to read as the clock ticked by and her team slept on.


	7. Cleared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melinda and Grant coping with the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry updates didn't happen for a few days, I had to get back to college and get settled and things like that. I'm going to hold back on the fakemarried fic so i can end these two at the same time and start putting other things up! thank you for your patience, updates will come quicker now.

A week later, Phil and Melinda sat across from each other with a sigh at dinner time. The twin white take-out boxes were all they had to cling to normalcy; Melinda had bags under her eyes and her hands trembled as she took a few bites of dinner.

“You need a break,” Phil said. “Let one of us sit with him, Melinda—“

“He doesn’t scream for you in his sleep,” Melinda snapped. “Only me. Always me. My name rouses me out of my sleep only for me to find it’s his worst nightmare.”

“No,” Phil said, his voice gentle. “His nightmares aren’t about you. Every time he calls your name, all he’s asking is for you to come save him. And every night, you do.”

“Then you know why I can’t let anyone else sleep with him,” Melinda said with a sigh. “Shit. Phil, I’m tired.”

“I gathered,” Phil said. “If you need to take a nap in my office, you’re welcome.”

“With the kids and their equipment in there? I’d sleep worse in your office these days than my bed,” Melinda said with a sigh. Phil sighed.

“Well, R&D won’t let Skye in. And Jemma and Leo aren’t having that,” Phil said. “So we just had to move down into my office.”

“You sound like you’re having fun,” Melinda said with a little chuckle. Phil snorted.

“It’s…endearing to see how much they care,” Phil admitted. “They’re very protective over our Skye in S.H.I.E.L.D. territory, yes. I suppose they’re concerned that she might be taken from them.”

“That’s a concern we all have as of late, it seems,” Melinda said, her voice dry. Phil winced.

“I suppose we do,” he murmured. “Melinda, at least eat before you go back to him. Please.”

“I will,” she said. “Thank you for having dinner with me.”

“It’s no trouble,” Phil said. “It’s his last night of observation, at least.”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Melinda said, her voice tight and restrained. “After further examination and observation, Athena wants him to have a month of therapy.”

“Oh, well, transferring the therapist onto the Bus is going to be a hassle, but I’m sure we can—“

“Not on the Bus, Phil,” Melinda said, blinking harshly. “She wants him to stay on the Helicarrier.”

Phil stared at her for a long second.

“We’ll miss you while you’re on leave,” he finally said, “but it’s for the best—“

“Director Fury,” she said, her voice shaking, “did not clear my leave.”

Phil stared at her for an instant more before he got up and embraced her.

She hadn’t buried her face into his neck and bawled since they were rookies. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to let go and rely on Phil without hesitation. It felt good to do it again.

“I’m so sorry,” Phil whispered. “It’s okay. You’re all right. You’re fine, Melinda. It’s going to be okay. He’ll be safe here. He’ll be safe. We’ll come back and check on him, I promise. I’ll make sure he’s still allowed to call you. I’m so sorry, oh, Melinda…”

She wept in his arms until she could barely stand from exhaustion. Phil kissed her forehead in quiet apology.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “He loves you. You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine, Melinda. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s him I’m worried about. I haven’t told him yet.”

Phil hugged her tight.

“He won’t blame you,” Phil promised. “How could he? Oh, Melinda. He loves you. You’re going to be okay. Both of you. I promise you.”

He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hands. “Finish dinner and go to him. You need him.”

“I do,” Melinda said. “Not as much as he needs me. Never as much. I’m sorry, god, I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Phil said, his voice gentle. “Or him. Or anyone. It’s okay. You’ll get this sorted out, the two of you.”

Phil settled her back into her chair and ignored the way her hands shook as she scarfed down the rest of her dinner and bolted without a word. He sighed and got up, going to tell his team.

…

Ward smiled up at her when she went back to their quarters. It took all her self control not to scream.

“My love,” she whispered in Chinese, something the security couldn’t even lip-read, let alone process. Something between only the two of them. “My love, are you well?”

“You’re here,” he murmured. “Of course.”

She wanted to cry. Kiss him. Anything that would keep him close for as long as she could manage it.

“I…Ward, we need to talk,” she said softly. “About your treatment.”

“Athena says I’m physically okay again,” Ward said. “Don’t worry, Melinda. I’ll be back on the Bus tomorrow with everyone.”

“Did she clear you for combat?” Melinda said. Ward cocked his head.

“She said I was physically healed,” he said. “Doesn’t that count?”

“Oh, sweet one,” Melinda said, tears making her eyes burn. “Oh, Ward. It isn’t the same thing. It isn’t at all.”

“Melinda?” Ward said, panic making his face dark and strained. “Melinda, what do you mean? Melinda? Melinda, Melinda, please? Melinda?”

“I—I can’t…”

Melinda exhaled, shuddering and agonized. “Sweet one. Sweet one. Oh, god. Oh, Ward. Oh, love. Give me a second, please…”

She kissed his forehead and squeezed his hand. “Listen to me, darling. Athena wants you to remain here for a month of intensive therapy and rehabilitation.”

“Oh,” Ward breathed. “Oh, that’s okay. That’s fine. You’ll be here for me, and I’ll be okay.”

Melinda couldn’t see through her tears. She hated herself for the relief she felt at that.

“No, sweet one,” she said. “I won’t be. I’m sorry. Director Fury didn’t clear my leave.”

For a second, he stared at her blankly.

Without a word, he rolled over and turned away from her, closing his eyes and settling in, still silent. Melinda gave him a few minutes, hesitant to even touch him.

Finally, when his breathing had slowed, she reached out and stroked his back, soothing and gentle.

He screamed her name in his sleep, agonized and raw, ripping her heart in two as he tilted his head back and wailed, tears running down his face as he clutched his pillow, tearing holes in it with his grip.

Someone else was crying. It sounded an awful lot like her, but that would be ridiculous, would be unreasonable—it was just a nightmare, only a nightmare…

It was only when she felt hands on her shoulders, pulling her away from him as she tried to hold Ward close, that she felt tethered to reality again. Her throat was raw and her eyes were blind with tears.

She cried his name once, and whatever happened after that, she didn’t know.

…

Melinda awoke again on the Bus, lying in bed with Phil sitting beside her. His face was grim and ashen, his expression solemn.

“Sweetheart,” he said, sighing. “Sorry about this. Athena figured it would be better if we sedated you. No way were we getting you on the Bus otherwise. I don’t think anything short of death would’ve separated you two.”

“You haven’t called me that in years,” Melinda said with a dry grumble, sitting up in bed. “I used to threaten to punch you.”

“Mm,” Phil said with a smile. “I thought it might make you feel a bit better.”

Melinda sighed and fell still. Phil gave her a moment to compose herself, rubbing her temples and hugging her knees to her chest.

“You drugged me,” she said. Phil held up his hands.

“I had no say in it,” he said. “Honestly, I didn’t know. I pulled you two apart because you would’ve hurt one another. The Director took you from me and promised to fix this. Jesus, I didn’t know until they gave you back to me on a gurney and told me to put you to bed.”

“Figures,” Melinda said with a sigh. “I’m sure he thought he was helping, the son of a bitch.”

“You would’ve injured him or yourself,” Phil said. “Ward had IVs in his arm, and you were desperate to stay with him. His grip was like iron when I tried to take you, Melinda.”

“You should’ve let me stay,” she said. Phil sighed.

“You know I would’ve if I could have,” he told her. “Mel, I’m sorry…”

She said nothing for a few minutes. Phil let her stay silent, her shoulders slumped and her head throbbing with a sudden, severe headache.

“They took him from me,” Melinda murmured. “They took Grant. They took Grant away.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.’s got doctors looking him over,” Phil promised. “Therapists. People who are trained to take care of him, Melinda. They’ll help him cope. They’ll detox him and make him fit for combat again.”

“But…I miss him,” Melinda said, closing her eyes and sighing. “I know it’s pathetic—“

“It isn’t,” Phil murmured. “You love him.”

“It’s…” Melinda sighed and rubbed her temples. “Oh, Phil. They won’t know how to handle him like I do. They just…they won’t take care of him. Not really.”

“I promise you, Melinda, they will,” Phil said. “I promise, we’ll call him. We’ll arrange for visits if we can manage it. They’ll see to him in a way we can’t; they’re licensed therapists, psychiatrists. They’ll make sure he can handle missions. Getting kidnapped changes an agent, Melinda, especially after what they did.”

“I don’t want to change him,” Melinda murmured. “I don’t want to poison him. Corrupt him.”

“Melinda, you’ve already changed him,” Phil said. “Whether you wanted to or not, your presence in his life has changed his. You’ve made him into a man capable of surviving this. For you.”

Melinda said nothing, looking at him. Phil resisted the urge to shudder as her gaze bored through him.

“I’ve hurt him,” she breathed. “God, Phil. I’ve hurt him.”

“You didn’t,” Phil said, though he knew full well it would fall on deaf ears. “Melinda, none of this was your fault. You have to believe me.”

“If it wasn’t,” Melinda said, “they wouldn’t have taken him from me.”

Phil just nodded and smoothed her hair away from her forehead, bowing down and kissing her temple. “Sleep. You deserve it, Mel.”

She nodded, sliding back down onto the bed with a sigh, wrapping her blankets around herself. Phil gave her the pillow from the other side of the bed before he left. Just as he went to close the door, he heard her wrap her arms around it, squeezing it tight.

“Guessed right,” he murmured, shaking his head with a sigh and making his way down into the cockpit. Jemma sat in the chair, Fitz settled between her legs and Skye on his lap.

“Are you three planning on moving at all?” he asked.

“No,” Jemma said.

“I take it you speak for the group?” Phil said with a small smile.

“Yep,” Skye and Fitz said with a twin yawn.

“All right,” Phil said, taking the controls. “Melinda’s still asleep.”

“Maybe she should just sleep for a month,” Skye said. “You know, without dying.”

“I’m sure she’d like to, sweetheart,” Phil said with a sigh. “But we’ll just be here for her. That’s all.”

“Phil, what are we going to do about missions?” Jemma asked. “The three of us aren’t exactly combat-ready…”

“Melinda and I will be enough,” Phil said. “And for the time being, she’ll be your SO, Skye. She’s more geared towards your fighting style anyway.”

“Okay,” Skye murmured. “Will she be okay with that?”

“I think, in Ward’s absence,” Phil said, “she’d consider it an honor to be the one in charge of your training, Skye.”

“Oh, okay,” Skye said. “Cool.”

They flew in silence for a little while. Skye and Fitz fiddled with a tablet; Jemma watched out the window, occasionally dozing off.

“Hey, AC?” Skye said, making Phil start in his seat and turn to her. She smiled shyly. “Ah, sorry. Just, um…”

She sighed and fiddled with a strand of her hair. “Out of all of us, you know Melinda best. And, uh…Phil? Is she going to be okay?”

Phil didn’t say anything for a few minutes, his hands on the controls.

“Melinda,” he finally said, exhaling softly, “is the strongest woman I know. In ways not even Natasha is quite yet. Melinda’s lived a longer life. She’s become hardened to the red in her ledger. But…she’s never had a debt like this. Because it isn’t hers. And she doesn’t feel like she’s repaid it.”

Skye cocked her head, furrowing her brow. Phil managed a chuckle. “Basically, she’s going to have a lot to sort through over the next month. But we’ll be there for her, and a team is the best anchor she could possibly have right now. I promise.”

“Oh, well, okay,” Skye said. “If you say so, AC, I believe you. We’ll do what we can. But…you know, I’m not worried. I know you’ll take care of her. Better than any of us, probably.”

Phil shook his head. “I don’t think you should count yourself out, Skye. You three are going to be good for her. You’re a part of her team. And she needs that, whether she shows it or not.”

“Okay,” Skye agreed, yawning widely and laying her head on Fitz’s shoulder. For a little while, there was complete silence in the cockpit.

“AC?” Skye said, making Phil raise his head and look over at her.

“Yes, Skye?” he asked.

“I miss Ward,” she said.

Phil sighed and checked their coordinates. “Me too, sweetheart.”


	8. Detox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward has therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, I moved back in and it's been a rush to get paperwork filed and loans signed off on, etc etc. It's been a mess and I genuinely apologize. The next episode will be Friday barring some catastrophic meltdown, and it will finish up both these fics!   
> And also, I have another fic or two waiting in the wings to compensate, so don't worry. Thank you for being patient.

“It’s been two weeks,” Skye said as she came into the lab, drenched in sweat. Jemma looked her over with a concerned frown.

“You look like you’ve worked out for a month,” she said with a disapproving tsk. “She’s working you harder than I think feasible. Or fair, certainly.”

“Whatever,” Skye said. “I know why. She doesn’t want any of us to end up like Ward.”

“He didn’t ‘end up’ like anything,” Fitz protested. “He got kidnapped. It happens to a lot of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. It’s terrible, but she’s blaming herself!”

“Well, a lot of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents don’t usually get caught in the crossfire of their lover’s personal grudges,” Skye said.  “I mean, not like this.”

“Even so,” Fitz said. “It’s just making her stressed, and anxious, and…I don’t know. It’s like watching your mom cry as a kid. You can’t _do_ anything, and it’s so…”

He trailed off. “Sorry, Skye. Didn’t mean to—“

“It’s fine,” she said. “Because, you know? She’s…kind of like my mom. So I know what you mean.”

Fitz nodded, pursing his lips with a huff. “I’m worried about you too, princess. Jem? Did you get that protein powder together?”

“What? Oh, yes,” Jemma said, sliding a tall glass full of chocolaty froth towards Skye. “Drink that, sweetheart. It’s got multivitamins and the like in it. If she’s working you like this, I’d like you to be prepared.”

“Okay, I get it,” Skye said. “I promise, I’m good. No fussing, guys.”

“Aw, none at all? That’s just cruel,” Fitz said with a teasing grin. Skye grumbled, swatting him affectionately as she took a sip of the shake.

“He’s got a point,” a voice said, making them all jump. “Letting your lover take care of you is important.”

Melinda walked in and sat down at the computer desk, her face neutral. “Or lovers, as the case may be.”

“It’s good to see you, Melinda,” Jemma said after an uncomfortable pause. “Do you want some of the protein powder too?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just checking the computer.”

“He’s not scheduled to be cleared for another two weeks,” Jemma said. “I checked.”

The second it left her mouth, her stomach plummeted in panic. Melinda’s expression barely changed.

“And what makes you think I’m checking on him, Agent Simmons?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Oh, come off it,” Fitz snapped. “Don’t tell Skye that she should care and act like you don’t. You love him more than the rest of us. He’s yours, isn’t he? It’s why he’s there.”

“ _Fitz!”_ Skye and Jemma snapped.

“It’s the truth, though,” Leo protested. “And he’s okay with it, damn it, because I know if someone from the Rising Tide tried to torture me because of Skye—well, I would be! Because you make those choices, and you, you just, you accept some things are going to—“

“He didn’t know what kind of choice he wasmaking,” Melinda said. Her tone made them all freeze. “He didn’t know about my past. He didn’t choose to get involved.”

“No,” Fitz said, licking his lips and balling his hands into fists to hide their tremble. “He did. He knew. Because he knew as well as the rest of us that being part of someone’s future means accepting their past, too. He knew. And he still made that choice. So you can stop beating yourself up over it now.”

Melinda’s face was like stone as she regarded him. Fitz folded his arms over his chest.

She got up and left without a word. The door closed with a soft hiss behind her.

There was silence in the lab for a second.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Skye said, shaking her head.

“I would, though,” Fitz said. “I mean, if someone did that. Because of you. It wouldn’t, ah. Bother me.”

“No, that’s not crazy, that’s sweet, and I love you too,” Skye said. “I mean the whole ‘mouthing off to Mama May’ thing. I mean, _Jesus.”_

“I didn’t want to, but she was going off on Jemma, and I wasn’t just going to let her have a go at my girls—“

“Oh, _your_ girls?” Jemma said with a huff. “Idiot. Trying to be macho for us.”

“Just trying to keep an eye on you!” Fitz protested. “With Ward gone, someone’s got to!”

There was silence in the lab again. Fitz rubbed his temples. “Sorry. I know you two can take care of yourselves. But…”

“No, I know,” Jemma said, kissing his forehead. “Thank you. It was pigheaded, but awfully noble.”

Fitz beamed, his face flushing. Skye kissed them both quickly before she slipped out.

“Where are you going, darling?” Jemma asked.

“Uh, gonna talk to Melinda,” Skye called back. “Be back as soon as I can!”

“I’m shutting down the systems for the night in an hour, princess,” Fitz said. “Come to bed if you’re not back by then.”

“Got it!” Skye called back before turning around with a sigh, steeling herself, and making her way to Melinda’s room.

She knocked on the door.

“I’m coming in whether you let me or not,” she said.

There was a pause.

“Incorrigible brat,” Melinda said as she opened the door. Skye shrugged.

“Eh, I’ve been called worse,” she said. “Look, Melinda…I want to talk. And not in a judgey, ‘lay off the emotions’ way. More like a, you know…I get it kind of way.”

“You don’t,” Melinda said, “you can’t—“

“What, I’ve got no reason to be worried about my past coming back to bite Leo and Jemmy in the ass at some point?” Skye said. “Honestly.”

Melinda didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then she exhaled through her teeth and gestured into her room. “Come on.”

“Okay,” Skye said, sitting down on her bed. “Look, I get it. I do. Because sometimes I worry about Leo and Jemma getting hurt because of the dumb shit I did. But they’re still here, aren’t they?”

“And what if they get tired of it?” Melinda said. “The fear, the panic, the paranoia. What if they just leave?”

Skye shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t think they will, though. ‘Cause I trust them not to, you know? And that’s what it is, I think. Love, I mean. I know they’re not going to leave, no matter how bad it gets. But the reason they’re not going to is me. And…so I just, you know…”

Skye gestured vaguely. “Like, look. I can’t change what I did, or who I did it for, or why. But I can make myself a person that’s worth looking past all that for. I can make myself that person every day, so I never make Leo and Jemma question why they stay. And I think that you can do that for Grant, too. You’re the reason he stays. Bahrain won’t make him leave. Or Ghufran. They’re not you. And on the scale of things, you outweigh the risk. You just…have to try your best to be that sort of person.”

Melinda didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Skye started to fidget, twiddling with her hands and smiling just a little.

“Thank you,” Melinda said. “Training tomorrow at seven. Don’t be late.”

“Dammit,” Skye said with a huff. “Sure, sure. Night, Melinda. Feel better, okay?”

Melinda just nodded, letting Skye slip out the door with a final wave. She watched the door for awhile, letting a little idle scenario play in her head where it opened again and Grant stood before her, his smile soft and his hands warm as they held her close and kissed her forehead.

Melinda kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed, closing her eyes and hoping her dreams might finish the scenario for her.

…

Ward curled up on one of the thin cots in the medbay and tried to stop shivering.

Detox hurt. Detox had him sitting in the bathroom for ten hours, shaking so hard he could barely move his head to puke, his throat tight and betraying him when all he wanted to do was scream for Melinda until he had a headache.

He felt a traitorous little gurgle in his stomach and heaved again, guilt making his heart shiver with sickness as he purged the fluids Athena had been forcing into him through an IV. He was scared of the feeding tube. He didn’t want it. He wanted to be over detox sooner, but his attempts at going to the gym and trying to sweat some of it out had stopped by the third day—too much pain in his muscles.

Athena still couldn’t identify the toxins they’d put in his systems. Ward tried to tell her to go get Jemma. Jemma would know. Jemmy knew everything. Jemmy would take him back to Melinda and figure out a way to make him stop being sick.

Ward hugged his knees to his chest and pushed his face into the pillow. He had to find Jemmy. He missed Jemmy. And Fitz. They weren’t safe on the Bus. Not without him. He knew Skye would protect them, but he hadn’t been there to train her for three weeks now. Skye wouldn’t know how to protect them.

Phil would protect all three of them, he knew that. Papa wolf Coulson. They all teased him about it, but Ward felt a genuine flicker of warm gratitude in his heart as he inhaled, exhaling slowly and ignoring the surge of pain that ran through his muscles. Phil would keep them safe. 

And Melinda. Melinda, oh. Melinda could take care of herself. She was so brave, so beautiful and strong and determined, but—but he wanted her to be here. He needed to be taken care of. It hurt, so much—not just the detox that left his muscles seizing up, his body drenched in sweat, and his emotions at the breaking point where he screamed at his therapists before crying for an hour.

It hurt more than all of that to admit it had gotten to him; that he needed to be taken care of right now. He needed to be sitting in Melinda’s lap, cradled in her arms as she rubbed his back and promised him she loved him. He needed her to talk to him, to tell him he’d done okay, that he’d made going back into Bahrain worth it.

Ward closed his eyes and sniffled in pain, trying and failing to pull the thin, pale blanket over himself. He couldn’t speak; his throat ached too much from the day’s therapy session. 

He mouthed her name until he fell asleep, the movement of his lips, so familiar and focused on warmth that he closed his eyes and drifted off without much fuss.

When he awoke the next morning, it was to Athena with her hands on him, trying to wake him up. Ward snarled at her and backed away, practically hissing as he hunched over on himself and regarding her with bright, hateful eyes.

“That’s why you can’t go back yet, kid,” Athena said, giving him a sharp look. “Because if she wakes you up in bed—is that what you want her to see? Is that how you want to greet her?”

 _“You’re not Melinda,”_ Ward snarled. Athena shrugged.

“A lot of people aren’t Melinda, kid,” she said. “If Melinda starts being the only person in your life, you’ll be back in therapy for a markedly different reason, promise you that. You’ve got two more weeks.”

“I hate you,” Ward said. “You don’t get it. The kids aren’t safe, and Phil’s not going to be enough, and Melinda’s hurt and scared, and I _hate you…”_

“And if you go back to them the way you are now, they’ll hate you too, kid,” Athena said, adjusting her labcoat and letting him be. She’d done enough, she figured; when she shut the door, he made a noise like he’d been socked in the gut by a prize fighter.

She rubbed her temples and went down the hall, lighting a cigarette as she went. An agent walking past almost opened her mouth to say something until he read her nametag; he ducked his head, wished the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medical division good morning, and bolted as soon as he thought he was out of earshot.

Athena exhaled through her nostrils and smiled as she made her way into her office.

“Nick,” she said. “Vice-Director Hill.”

“How’s Phil’s boy?” Nick asked. Athena sighed and rubbed her temples.

“He’s a fucking mess,” Athena said. “To be entirely fair, he’s going through intense therapy and detoxing from drugs I still don’t understand. On top of separating him from his team, his life’s pretty much in the shitter right now, so I don’t blame him for how he’s acting.”

“Do you think he needs another two weeks after his month is up?” Nick asked. Athena shrugged.

“Tell you the truth, Nick, I think it might kill him,” she said. “He’s lonely and terrified. And we’ve all read his file, seen his psychological profile. The little tech geek babies Phil’s rounded up are like his baby brother all over again. He doesn’t want to be separated from them.”

“But he can’t go back to them like this,” Maria said, wrinkling her nose. Athena snorted.

“You think he understands that?” she said. “He might, for all I know. But I do know he sure as shit doesn’t care. I tried to make him care, but…”

She looked up at the Director. “Honestly, Nick, tell me something. I went through the Academy with the rest of you. Thankfully, I got out of the worst of your antics, being in the med division…but even so. You owe me this explanation.”

She gestured to the files on Nick’s desk. “What the hell did you take them from him for? Not just the kids, but Melinda? What sort of game are you playing?”

“It’s not a game,” Nick said. “I know Mel. She’s vicious and dangerous and one of the best agents I have. And she knows that; she’s lived that way for a long time. And then Agent Ward comes in and changes everything. He upends the game board she’d been playing on for a long time. And then this incident in Bahrain—“

“That _you sent them into_!” Athena shouted. “Jesus, Nick, I read the mission reports! You sent two of your best friends back into fucking _Bahrain_ after the complete and utter fucking _shit show_ that became last time! What the _hell_ was that for?”

“The same reason I separated Melinda and Ward,” Nick said. “I wanted to prove to her she was better than the ghosts of her past. But…”

He sighed. “Evidently, it didn’t quite go as I planned.”

Both women were silent, aware of the weight of what Nick had just said. He huffed. “If it was anyone but Mel, I’d never admit it. But—I didn’t account for Abedin. I didn’t…think. But—I assure you, separating the two, and letting them heal on their own so they don’t break each other down any more is all that I’m trying to do. I’m trying to give them some space so they don’t destroy one another trying to pull themselves together.”

“I’m sure she’ll be grateful,” Maria said. “You just have to give her some time.”

“How well do you know Melinda May, Vice-Director?” Athena said. “There’s no way in hell she’ll be ‘grateful.’ She knows Nick, so she won’t kill him. But she’s not going to forgive him for this.”

“No,” Fury said, heaving a sigh. “I know she won’t. But there you go. I did the best I could for both of them.”

“Right,” Athena said. “He’s going to need some space. Two weeks. We can have him suitable for return to the Bus in two weeks. That, I can promise you. After that…hell. Most I can hope for is May’ll take care of him.”

“She will,” Fury agreed. “I have to hope, too.”

Athena left, closing the door quietly behind her as she went down to move Ward to his therapists’ office.

…

Ward listened quietly when his therapists spoke to him, did his exercises, and wrote down what they asked him to without any more than the necessary conversation.

He took his prescriptions and put them in his pocket, the full pill bottles rattling in his pocket as he stood, making his way to the doctor’s.

“Agent Ward,” Athena announced, checking his pulse rate with a huff. “You’re almost detoxed.”

“Mm,” he murmured. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come off it,” she said. “I only told you the truth. No need for the cold shoulder.”

Ward said nothing. Athena huffed and took a blood sample. “I need to run a few final tests. Could take a few days. You all right with that, Ward?”

“Don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice sharp. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He got up and left without a word. Athena rolled her eyes. “This isn’t exactly helping you prove you’re benefiting from your therapy, jackass!”

Ward said nothing, slamming the door shut. Athena sighed, exhaling through her teeth and going to light another cigarette.

Ward went and settled in, laying down on his bed. Detox. He had to prove he could detox. If he was detoxed, then he could go back to her. He could go back to Melinda. He was fine. They didn’t understand. He was fine, he was safe, he just—he just needed Melinda. He needed his team. He needed to go home.

Ward buried his face in his pillow, took a few steady breaths, and hugged himself tight.

He wanted to go home so bad it was a physical ache in his chest. He rolled over and sat up, rubbing his temples.

Detox. He could detox. Fight a little longer. If he did, he could go home to her worthy. He had to fight. He had to be strong. For Melinda. For Melinda, anything.

Ward got up, wincing in pain as he hobbled over to the gym. He took off his sweatshirt and cracked his knuckles, working the bag in front of him until his knees went weak. His chest seized up in pain and he snarled, shuddering as he continued to fight until he could barely stand.

He bared his teeth, rubbing his forehead and standing up, shaking. He managed a few more punches before he dragged himself to the shower and sat down under the hot water, trembling.

Someone came and pulled him out eventually. By then the water had run cold. It didn’t matter—he barely noticed. His skin burned hot enough to compensate.


	9. The Beach at Sundown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fic where I feel like I could honestly write a sequel, but I'm unsure if it would be worth it. I like this story either way; I think it's powerful, interesting, and kind of just, you know. Sad. It wasn't a happy fake married fic, but hey.  
> I know the ending is going to come off as kind of lighthearted, but that's why I kind of want to write a sequel; because this is the sort of thing that never goes away. It never really leaves you, you know? And it does change his life. It's important that be remembered; you can always have happiness and healing but there's nothing wrong with saying bad things change you. They do, but you're still okay! You're still you. And people will still love you.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy the last chapter! I'm looking to put a few more fics up tomorrow, probably, or the day after. So keep your eyes peeled!

Ward awoke the next morning in bed, shivering. He yawned and rubbed his temples, standing up and frowning as he examined himself in the mirror.

Naked. Someone had to have undressed him.

He growled a little, hugging himself. Not fair. Melinda was the only one who was supposed to see him naked.

He sighed and got up, getting dressed and throwing on a jacket over his shirt and jeans. He left his room and made his way into the lab.

“Doc?” he called. “Clean yet?”

“Jesus, kid, calm down,” Athena said. “Detox takes awhile. And considering I don’t know what was in your system—“

“Give it to Jemmy,” Ward said. “Jemma would know. She has to know.”

“I can’t send it to her,” Athena said. “Blood samples when you go back, sure. But I can’t just email her a sample of your blood, kid.”

“I’m thirty,” Ward grumbled. Athena shrugged.

“So?” she said. “Anyway, sit. I need to look you over one more time.”

Ward sighed and took off his shirt, sitting down on the lab table. Athena frowned and started to check his chest. “Eager to be going back home in a week, Ward?”

“Nn,” Ward said with a shrug. “I just wanna be detoxed. I’m tired.”

“Considering you were in the gym until three in the morning, I’m not surprised,” Athena said. Ward shrugged.

“Tried to sweat it out some,” he said. “I dunno if it worked.”

“It might’ve helped,” Athena said with a shrug. “I’ll take another sample and see. Not a lot, kid. And go have a big breakfast after.”

“Right,” Ward said, letting her inject the syringe without so much as a twitch.

“You know,” he said, his tone soft and casual in a way that made Athena flinch. “I used to be scared of needles before this.”

“Were you now?” Athena asked, glancing up and meeting his gaze. It was glazed and numb, like she was looking through glass at a shark in its tank.

“Was,” Ward agreed. “Now? I just feel numb.”

Ward got up and left as soon as she’d filled the blood sample. Athena rubbed her temples.

“Fucking shit, kid,” she muttered. “You’re a mess.”

She wasn’t sure if she was talking to Ward or herself at this point, which told her she needed a vacation after this newest disaster had been sorted out.

…

Ward settled in at the mess hall, quiet and by himself. He’d never had any team that mattered before Phil’s team; he took solo work whenever possible. He could pass in here unnoticed, silent and relaxed. It was strange to be quiet in the middle of chaos, but it settled his churning insides somewhat as he listened and drank his coffee.

“Got briefings from the newest round of missions,” someone remarked near him. Ward perked up a bit, listening without quite realizing as he took a bite of his protein bar.

“Anything good on our end?” another agent asked, leaning over the other one’s shoulder, her hair spilling over the broad slope. He shrugged.

“Ah, not much. We’re not scheduled for transfer onto any of the mobiles. Clare’s team is going to Jamaica, Syndwright’s team is in Barcelona, and I think…I’m pretty sure May’s team headed to New York. They’ve become the freaky alien experts at this point, huh?”

“Yeah, but it kinda makes sense,” the other agent agreed with a laugh. After that point, they continued talking, but Ward had stopped paying attention entirely.

Melinda was going to be in New York.

He stood, taking his protein bar with him and leaving before he made his way to the main hub of the Helicarrier. His eyes flicked quickly over the readings on the computers; they were over Utah right now.

He could go. He could be with her, and soon. He could see Melinda again.

He smiled, leaving the main hub to check the medbay first. He just wanted to make sure.

“Hey, kid,” Athena greeted him when he entered. “You’ve been cleared and detoxed. Just filed the paperwork. But even so, I definitely want that biochemist of yours to look the samples over.”

“Okay,” Ward agreed. “I’ll make sure of it. Thank you, Athena. For all of this, I mean.”

“Hey, no trouble,” Athena said with a shrug. “S’my job.”

Ward nodded, letting her excuse herself for a second with a smile of relief as he pocketed a few tightly sealed bottles with his name on them. He would show Jemmy as soon as he got back. He just had to get there. One last step.

“Kid,” Athena said as she came in, tossing him a waxy white bag. “Don’t forget your pills, okay? You know your schedule?”

Ward nodded. Athena sighed with relief. “Good, good. Just keep taking them. We’ll figure out some way to replenish your supplies when we’ve got to. Send ‘em in with the refuels and supplies, maybe.”

“Thank you,” Ward said. “Sorry about this.”

“No need to apologize for getting fucked up,” Athena said. “Happens to everyone. Especially S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. So don’t worry about it.”

Ward nodded, excusing himself with one last quiet thank-you before he made his way down the hall. He threw the few items of clothing he’d had with him into a duffel and sighed, slinging it over his shoulder.

He was doing something really dangerous. He knew that. But—Melinda.

He smiled at the thought of her, dreaming of the feel of her as he wandered down the hallway, dazed and relaxed as he passed everyone by, making his way into the hangar.

He sat and waited, watching crews mill about and talk to one another. Finally, though it took another hour, he watched one crew break for lunch, all of them filing out of the plane and leaving.

Ward sighed in relief and looked around, giving it a few beats before he slipped onto the plane and started it up. He’d piloted before, but Melinda had taught him things he’d never heard at SpecOps—including, with a teasing little smile as she did it, how to fly under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar.

Ward flicked a few switches and smiled, content, as he blew out of the hangar and towards New York—towards Melinda.

…

Phil looked relieved when they touched down, though Skye didn’t exactly blame him.

“You go visit your team, AC,” she said. “I’m sure they’ve all missed you lately. I’ll take care of Leo and Jem.”

“Well, I’m going with them to check some Chitauri equipment,” Phil said. “But, yes, we were going to go relax and enjoy ourselves after.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Skye said with a teasing grin. Phil’s face flushed.

“That’s enough out of you,” he grumbled. Skye’s grin just got wider.

“Besides, Melinda’s got the three of you today,” Phil said. “Since I’m the only one I want near Chitauri technology on this team after our little incident, I’ll be going with the Avengers. You three go take a break, out of uniform. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents aren’t exactly a welcome sight in New York.”

“Can we go to Coney Island?” Skye asked. Phil sighed.

“You’ll have to ask Melinda,” he said, which they both knew was a yes. He took her with him as they headed out of the cockpit and downstairs.

“Taking Lola, Phil?” Melinda asked, sitting on the hood of the car. Phil just gave her a look.

“Clint likes going flying,” he said. Melinda just smiled.

“Go have fun,” she said. “I’ll take the kids.”

Phil nodded, getting in Lola and hitting the gas, the three of them watching him leave before Skye piped up, “Melinda, can we go to Coney Island?”

“I don’t know how much I want to do crowds today,” Melinda said with a huff.

“Come on, please?” Skye pouted. “Jemma and Leo haven’t ever been. They’re uncultured Europeans. Please?”

Melinda hedged as Jemma and Leo sputtered. Skye grumbled. “Please? I’ve been doing really well in my training!”

“Okay, fine,” Melinda said with a huff. “Coney Island it is. Come on, kids. It’s a long ride on the subway from here.”

“We should leave Phil a note,” Jemma said, taking out a pad and pen and scribbling something down before turning around. “Hold on, I’m going to put it in the cockpit!”

“All right, we’ll be outside,” Melinda said. “Do all three of you need bathing suits?”

“Yeah,” Skye said. “So, shopping first?”

“There’ll be places around Coney Island, don’t worry,” Melinda said.

“I don’t need one,” Fitz said. Skye hooked an arm around his shoulders.

“Yes you do,” she said with a grin as Fitz grumbled and Melinda sighed, waiting until her back was turned to smile at them.

…

Ward yawned and rubbed his temples as he landed the plane on the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s New York base.

“Don’t know how she stands flying for so long,” he mumbled. “It’s so boring…”

He huffed. He’d just have to be there with her more from now on. Make things more interesting for her.

Ward took a few things from the plane and smiled in triumph as he rappelled neatly over the side of the building. Someone else would find the plane and deal with it; for now, he had a Bus to find.

He frowned, looking around the street. S.H.I.E.L.D. owned most of the street in one way or another; mostly the buildings functioned as offices and places to land in the admittedly crowded city. Going through the offices might get him recognized, but he could probably bullshit his way out of anything major as long as he was evasive enough.

He followed his phone’s coordinates until he came to the end of the block; he entered the building and showed his ID, making his way downstairs without a word.

The basement was an enormous, hollowed-out garage; Ward found the Bus easily and smiled in relief, making his way up the ramp and onto the plane.

He paused and frowned. Lola was gone. That might just mean Phil went out for a spin, though; after all, he was back in New York. He probably went to visit the Avengers.

Ward was as quiet as he could possibly be as he made his way into the cockpit, opening the door with a broad smile.

“Melinda, I’m home!” he said, looking around. He paused in the silence.

“Melinda?” he called.

The cockpit was empty. Ward huffed, glancing around the room until he saw a note.

_“Phil—went for the beach! We’ll be back tonight! Have fun flying! –Jemma.”_

“Coney Island,” Ward said, his tone wondering and quiet as he held up the paper. “Okay. I can do Coney Island.”

He got into their van and drove, making his way up from the garage through the ramp and outside, turning sharply down the street as he plugged in coordinates on the GPS. His hands only shook in slight little tremors as he made a turn, driving ever closer to Melinda.

He stopped off just as the crowds started to get heavy and parked the car in a lot, scanning his credit card before ducking into a gift store and buying a tote bag, sandals, and a bathing suit.

Ward made his way onto the beach and ducked into the bathroom, undressing and tossing his clothes into the tote bag before throwing on his trunks and exchanging his socks and shoes for sandals. He sighed in relief and stretched out, arms up, before throwing the tote bag over his shoulder and buying a beach pass, weaving through the crowds and scanning them in circles for Melinda.

The sun was starting to make the ocean shimmer a bright, crimson-tinted gold, the white caps of the waves like fire as he looked down the shoreline. Not many people were left in the water; the lifeguards had gone home, and most people were headed to the amusement park rather than the beach.

Skye and Jemma stood out—as did Fitz, the lone umbrella under the beach serving as his cover. Ward smiled at the sight of them despite the tight panic that had begun to curl around his ribs and clench.

He turned and there she was; sitting on the beach with her feet buried in the sand, the waves running over her calves and up to her knees, dribbling down in rivers over the sand that had clung stubbornly to her skin. She was half-asleep, her sunglasses slipping down her nose and a sunhat fluttering in the breeze, pink and cheerful.

He dropped his bag by the umbrella; Fitz looked up and dropped his book as Skye and Jemma sucked in a breath. Ward smiled, putting a finger to his lips as he made his way across the sand to kneel in front of Melinda’s chair and gently tug her sunglasses from her face.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as she struggled to rise.

“Oh no,” Ward said with a smile, shaking his head, “don’t get up on my account.”

He picked her up in his arms and held her tight, kissing her forehead before setting her down on the sand and smiling.

“Hey,” he said. “I, uh, I…arranged for some early leave. It was getting awfully lonely on the Helicarrier.”

“Fury’s going to lose it on you,” Melinda said. Ward shrugged.

“Don’t care,” he said. “It would be worth it, anyway. I’ve already lost myself in you.”

Melinda said nothing for a second.

Ward yelped and fell back into the water from the force of her hug, her arms wrapped tight around him as he hit the shallow waters, holding her close as she kissed his face and clung tight to him, laughing and kissing his forehead.

“That,” she said, “was terrible.”

“It was completely improvised, cut me some slack,” Ward said with a grin. “I’m just…glad I’m back.”

“How’d you get here?” she asked.

“Uh, I borrowed a plane,” Ward said.

Melinda gave him a look. He held up his hands in surrender. “I put it back! It’s at the New York base!”

“I’m almost tempted to let him yell at you,” Melinda grumbled. “You could’ve been hurt.”

“I’m okay,” Ward said.

“You didn’t finish your therapy,” Melinda admonished him. Ward shrugged.

“Did most of it,” he said. “It was doing more harm than good to be separated from my team at this point.”

Melinda hugged him tight and nodded. “But it helped?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ward promised. “It did, honestly—I just couldn’t do another week of it, not knowing where you were. I missed you so much it hurt, Melinda. Physically, I mean.”

Melinda nodded, kissing his forehead. “It’s all right. I’m here now. I’ll take care of you. Things are going to be just fine, Ward.”

“Not exactly,” he murmured. “But we’ll have each other, right? And home?”

“All that and more,” Melinda promised him, stroking his hair. “Don’t worry, my love. I’m never leaving you again. We’ll fix this together. It wasn’t your fault, you know that.”

“Wasn’t yours, either,” Ward promised her, kissing her forehead. “You’re all I need, Melinda. You were worth everything I went through. And you always will be. Because I did it for you.”

It took Melinda a second, but she nodded and hugged him tight.

Ward smiled and kissed her just as a wave swelled up and drenched them both. She held onto him tight in the water as it surrounded them, and he didn’t feel like he was drowning at all.

**Author's Note:**

> This all kind of started with my desire to write a trope inversion of the 'kidnapped woman' thing, because I like the damsel in distress trope well enough, but it becomes paternalistic and gross and creepy really easily, (see: Taken.) Besides, we all know if anyone was going to get kidnapped and tortured, it would be Ward, not Melinda.  
> A thing I sort of struggled with making in this fic was having a Muslim villain, because AoS itself is also exceedingly shitty with regards to like half the villains being people of color, but Bahrain is literally like almost entirely made up of Islamic people and I figured it would be worse to just have a random white dude being the villain? So I really hope this comes off all right. I do. And if I'm lucky, the fic's written well, too. I admit my summaries are really vague, god knows I'm legitimately pressed to come up with a summary that's both catchy and not an enormous spoiler.


End file.
